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Heroines  ot  History  and  Legend 
Stories  and  Poems 


BOOKS 

Edited  by  ELVA  S.  SMITH 

Cataloguer  of  Children's  Books,  Carnegie  Library 
of  Pittsburgh 

Illustrated      Cloth      $2.00  each 

GOOD  OLD  STORIES  for  Boys  and  Girls 

MYSTERY  TALES  for  Boys  and  Girls 
PEACE  AND  PATRIOTISM 


Edited  by  ELVA  S.  SMITH  and 
ALICE  I.  HAZELTINE 

St.  Louis  Public  Library 

CHRISTMAS  IN  LEGEND  AND  STORY 


Heroines  of  History 
and  Legend 

STORIES  AND  POEMS 

EDITED  BY 

ELVA  S.  SMITH 

Carnegie  Library  of  Piiisburgh 

ILLUSTRATED  '>-' 


BOSTON 
LOTHROP,  LEE  &  SHEPARD  CO. 


Copyright,  1 921, 
By  Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co. 


All  Rights  Reserved 


Heroines  of  History  and  Legend 


1Flonvoo&  ipress 

BERWICK  &  SMITH  CO. 

Norwood,  Mass. 
U.  S. A. 


PN57 


PREFACE 

This  book  belongs  to  tlie  romance  of  history, 
rather  than  to  biography.     In  it  are  brought  to- 
•  gather  stories,  ballads  and  narrative  poems  which 
^  tell  of  the  loyalty,  patriotism,  courage  and  self- 
^  sacrifice  of  girls  and  women  in  different  ages  and 
^  in  many  lands,  from  the  time  of  the  East  Indian 
princess,  Savitri,  whose  love  was  not  conquered  by 
J  death,  to  Edith  Cavell,  the  English  nurse,  who  gave 
r*  her  life  in  the  great  European  war.    Some  of  the 
'^  stories  are  altogether  true  to  fact ;  but  not  all  that 
is  here  set  forth  will  be  found  recorded  in  the  sober 
]  pages  of  history.    Traditional  tales  and  mediaeval 
J  legends   have   been   included ;   and   these,   in   the 
^course  of  countless  recitations,  may  have  become 
fj)  altered  and  the  actual  events  linked  with  the  mar- 
velous.   Some  of  them  have  been  embellished  by  the 
fancy  and  imagination  of  the  poets  and  prose  writ- 
ers of  a  later  age ;  for  "  men  will  sing  for  aye  the 
deed   one   moment  brings   to   birth."     But   even 
though  all  may  not  have  happened  exactly  as  re- 
lated in  story  or  verse,  though  there  may  be  varia- 
tions in  details  or  in  setting,  these  legendary  tales 
are  a  part  of  the  "high  tradition  of  the  world." 
Fundamentally  all  of  them  are  true ;  and  the  spirit 
of  service,  the  devotion  to  duty,  the  loyalty  to  coun- 


6  PREFACE 

try  or  religion  are  an  inspiration  to  every  one  who 
deliglits  in  brave  conduct  or  heroic  action.  One 
may  not  be  called  ui^on  to  lead  troops  to  battle, 
man  a  gun,  or  defend  a  castle ;  but  there  are  plenty 
of  real  opportunities  for  true  heroism  in  the  every- 
day life  of  the  present  and  a  great  need  for  higher 
ideals  of  national  service,  not  only  for  boys,  but  for 
girls  as  well. 

The  selections  included  in  this  volume  represent 
only  a  small  part  of  the  great  heritage  of  heroic  and 
patriotic  example  from  early  Greece  and  Rome, 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  later  history  of  Europe 
and  America ;  but  additional  reading  has  been  sug- 
gested in  the  notes,  and  other  tales  of  heroes  and 
heroines  will  be  found  in  Miss  Yonge's  "  Book  of 
Golden  Deeds,"  and  similar  collections. 

It  is  hoped  that  these  stories  and  poems  will  give 
real  pleasure  to  the  girls  who  read  them.  If  hero- 
ism is  contagious,  may  they  not  also  help  to  de- 
velop a  sense  of  obligation  and  the  spirit  that  freely 
gives  itself  to  others? 

Elva  S.  Smith. 

Pittsburgh, 

February,  1921. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

The  editor  is  indebted  to  the  following  authors 
and  publishers  for  permission  to  use  the  selections 
indicated : 

Bums  &  Gates:  "Nurse  Edith  Cavell,"  from  "A  Father 
of  Women,  and  Other  Poems,"  by  Alice  Meynell. 

The  Century  Company:  "Grizel  Cochrane 's  Ride,"  by 
Elia  W.  Peattie,  from  St.  Nicholas. 

Miss  Helen  Gray  Cone:  "Greencastle  Jenny." 

J.  M.  Dent  &  Sons:  "Golden  Apples  and  Roses  Red," 
from  "A  Child's  Book  of  Samts,"  by  William  Can- 
ton. 

Harper  &  Brothers:  "Mulan,  the  Maiden  Chief,"  from 
"The  Chinese;  Their  Education,  Philosophy  and 
Letters,"  by  W.  A.  P.  Martin. 

Houghton  Mifflin  Company:  "Santa  Filomena,"  by 
Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow;  "Saint  Elizabeth," 
by  William  Wetmore  Story;  "Heartbreak  Hill,"  by 
Celia  Thaxter;  "Barbara  Frietchie,"  by  John 
Greenleaf  Whittier.  (Used  by  permission  of  and  by 
special  arrangement  with  Houghton  Mifflin  Com- 
pany, the  authorized  publishers.) 

Little,  BroAvn  &  Company:  "The  Soul  of  the  Great 
Bell,"  from  "Some  Chinese  Ghosts,"  by  Lafcadio 
Hearn;  "The  Heroine  of  Vercheres,"  from  "Count 
Front enac  and  New  France,"  by  Francis  Parkman. 

The  London  Times:  "Belgium,  the  Bar-Lass,"  by  A. 
Mary  F.  Robinson. 

7 


8  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

The  Page  Company:  ''How  the  Mohawks  Set  Out  for 
Medoetec,"  by  C.  G.  D.  Roberts. 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons  and  Mrs.  W.  H.  Drummond: 
"Madeleine  Vereheres,"  from  the  poems  by  W.  H. 
Drummond,  courtesy  of  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  pub- 
lishers. 

Scott,  Foresman  and  Company:  "Savitri's  Choice," 
from  "Hindu  Literature,"  by  Elizabeth  A.  Reed. 
(Used  by  permission  of  Scott,  Foresman  and  Com- 
pany.) 

Charles  Scribner's  Sons:  "Brier-Rose,"  from  "Idyls  of 
Norway,  and  Other  Poems,"  by  Hjalmar  Hjorth 
Boyesen.  (Copyright,  1882,  by  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons.) 

T.  Fisher  Unwin:  "A  Ballad  of  Orleans,"  from  "The 
Collected  Poems"  of  A.  Mary  F.  Robinson. 

' '  The  Privateer  of  Hall 's  Harbor, ' '  by  Grace  Dean  Mc- 
Leod,  is  from  Wide  Awake,  and  "The  Maid,"  by 
Theodore  Roberts,  is  from  the  Pall  Mall  Magazine. 


CONTENTS 


Savitri's  Choice,  from  the 

Mahabharata    . 

Elisabeth  A.  Reed 

13 

Jephtha's  Daughter    . 

Lord  Byron 

29 

Jephthah's  Daughter  . 

Lord  Tennyson     . 

30 

Two  Immortal  Names  .        ; 

Elisabeth  W.  Champney 

33 

BOADICEA        .... 

William  Cowper . 

48 

Golden  Apples  and  Roses 

Red 

William  Canton  . 

50 

The  Shepherd  Girl  of  Nan- 

TERRE             .... 

Charlotte  M.   Yonge     . 

53 

MuLAN,  THE  Maiden  Chief 

Chinese  Bahad    . 

61 

Godiva 

Lord  Tennyson     . 

63 

The  English  Merchant  and 

the  Saracen  Lady    . 

Grace  Greenwood 

66 

The  Women  of  Weinsberg 

Adelbert  von  Chamisso 

74 

The  Brave  Women  of  Tann 

William  James  Linton 

V 

Saint  Elizabeth  . 

William  Wetmore  Story 

81 

Black  Agnes  of  Dunbar 

Sir  Walter  Scott  . 

85 

The    Soul    of   the    Great 

Bell 

Lafcadio  Hearn 

89 

A  Legend  of  Bregenz 

Adelaide  A.  Proctor 

96 

The  Farewell  of  Joan  of 

Arc 

Frederick  Schiller 

103 

A  Ballad  of  Orleans 

A.  Mary  F.  Robinson  . 

105 

The  Maid      .... 

Theodore  Roberts 

107 

The  King's  Tragedy    . 

Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti 

109 

Little  Rosamond 

Grace  Greenwood 

141 

Helen  of  Kirkconnell 

Scottish  Ballad    . 

•     149 

Mary  Ambree 

English  Ballad    . 

.     151 

Pocahontas  .... 

William  Makepeace  Thacken 

xy  155 

How  the  Mohawks  Set  Out 

for  Medoctec   . 

Charles  G.  D.  Roberts 

•      157 

Alice  Vane  .... 

Grace  Greenwood 
9 

.      161 

10 


CONTENTS 


Grizel  Hume 

The  Two  Margarets   . 

Grizel  Cochrane's  Ride 

The  Heroine  of  VERcnfeRES 

Madeleine  Vercheres 

Heartbreak  Hill 

Welcome  to  Skye 

Flora  Macdonald,  the  Her- 
oine ofthe  "  Forty-Five  " 

The  Lament  of  Flora  Mac- 
donald      .... 

Captain  Molly  at  Mon- 
mouth        .... 

Agostina  of  Zaragoza 

The  Maid  of  Saragoza 

The  Privateer  of  Hall's 
Harbor      .... 

The  Heroism  of  Madame 
Lavalette 

The  Chieftainess  and  the 
Volcano     .... 
Santa  Filomena  . 
The  Relief  of  Lucknow 
Barbara  Frietchie 
Greencastle  Jenny 
Brier-Rose    .        .        .        . 
Belgium,  the  Bar-Lass 
Nurse  Edith  Cavell  . 
Notes 


Grace  Greenwood 
Grace  Greenwood 
Elia  W.  Peattie  . 
Francis  Parkman 


Frank  Mundell    . 

James  Hogg 

William  Collins  . 
Charlotte  M.  Yonge 
Lord  Byron 

Grace  Dean  McLeod 


Grace  Greenwood 


172 
176 
181 
199 


William  Henry  Drummond     206 

Celia  Thaxter      .         .         .212 
Jacob  ite  Song       .         .         .216 


219 

225 

227 
230 
240 

242 

258 


Charlotte  M.  Yonge  .  .  265 
Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  270 
Robert  Traill  Spence  Lowell  iTl 
John  Greenleaf  Whittier  .  276 
Helen  Gray  Cone  .  -279 
Hjalmar  Hjorth  Boyesen  .  282 
A.  Mary  F.  Robinson  .  .  291 
Alice  Meynell  .  .  .  293 
295 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Flora   Macdonald,  The   Heroine  of  the 

"Forty-Five"  (  Page  219)         .         Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

Jephthah's   Daughter   Coming   to   Meet    Her 

Father        .......       30 

St.  Genevieve  as  Child  in  Prayer      ...       58 

Joan  of  Arc  Listening  to  the  Heavenly  Voices     106 

Pocahontas 156 

The  Maid  of  Zaragoza 240 

Saint  Filomena 270 

The  Campbells  are  Coming     .         .        .         .274 


U 


Heroines  of  History  and 
Legend 

SAVITRI'S   CHOICE 
Retold  from  the  Mahabharata  by  Elizabeth  A.  Reed 

Long  years  ago  there  lived  in  palace  halls  the 
mighty  King  of  Kekaya.  Gallant  and  brave  in  per- 
son, just  and  beneficent  in  the  administration  of  the 
laws  of  his  realm,  he  was  the  hero  of  his  people  and 
they  rendered  to  him  a  loyal  obedience. 

But  King  Asva-pati  carried  a  desolate  heart  amid 
the  magnificence  which  surrounded  him,  for  the 
gods  had  written  him  childless.  Through  long 
years  of  faithful  fasting  and  penance  his  prayers 
had  been  unanswered.  But  one  glad  day  the  god- 
dess of  the  sun  arose  from  his  sacrificial  fire ;  beau- 
tiful and  bright  she  came  in  the  form  of  glorious 
womanhood,  and  rising  through  the  crimson  flame 
stepped  into  the  royal  presence,  saying :  "  What 
wilt  thou,  mighty  Raja,  that  I  shall  do  for  thee? 
I  have  listened  to  thy  prayers ;  T  have  watched  thy 
penance,  and  seen  the  bounty  of  thine  offerings. 
During  all  the  years  of  thy  reign  the  poor  have 
found  in  thee  a  valued  friend,  and  now,  O  King !  I 

13 


U    HEROINES  OF  HISTOEY  A^D  LEGEND 

wait  to  do  thy  bidddng ;  tell  me  now  the  dearest  wish 
of  thy  heart.'' 

And  AsTa-pati  answered :  "  Oh,  beautiful  god- 
dess, 'tis  for  my  barren  line  that  I  do  penance  and 
have  performed  my  vows,  lo!  these  many  years. 
Give  me  an  heir  for  my  throne  and  kingdom ;  give 
me  children  to  grace  my  royal  hearthstone." 

Then  the  radiant  goddess,  smiling,  said :  "  I  knew 
thy  wish,  O  King,  and  there  shall  be  born  a  daugh- 
ter unto  thee — not  a  son,  but  a  fair  girl — ^the  love- 
liest that  the  stars  have  ever  shone  upon  " ;  and, 
smiling  still,  the  beauteous  vision  vanished  in  the 
sacrificial  flame. 

Time  passed  on  with  flying  feet,  and  ere  long  a 
child  was  given  to  the  royal  house,  and  courtiers 
brought  their  praise  unto  the  palace  gates,  while 
the  streets  of  the  city  were  ringing  with  joyous 
music,  and  everywhere  the  glad  news  went  that  the 
queen  had  borne  a  daughter — a  babe  of  loveliest 
mould.  The  child  was  named  Savitri,  and  the 
happy  father  made  a  royal  birthday  feast ;  the  poor 
were  fed  and  the  city  was  decorated  with  bright 
flags  and  long  festoons  of  flowers.  Every  porch 
and  pillar  was  made  bright  and  fragrant  with  floral 
vines,  and  the  great  vases  in  front  of  the  palace 
were  filled  with  branches  of  orange  and  mango 
trees. 

The  little  one  who  met  with  such  a  royal  welcome 
grew  more  beautiful  as  the  years  went  by,  and  when 
she  reached  the  fair  heights  of  womanhood  she  was 
a  vision  of  grace  and  loveliness.     The  lithe  figure  of 


SATITPJ'S  CHOICE  16 

this  Indian  maid  was  like  a  dream  of  beauty  and 
grace,  and  the  rosy  light  of  health  flashed  through 
the  olive  shades  of  her  face.  The  crimson  lips 
smiled  over  pearly  teeth  and  the  great  dark  eyes 
were  luminous  with  light  and  love.  But  still  no 
raja  dared  to  ask  the  hand  of  the  princess  in  mar- 
riage. Her  loveliness  and  truth,  her  queenly  in- 
dependence had  awed  them  into  silence. 

At  last  her  father  gave  to  her  a  princess's  right  to 
choose  for  herself  a  lord,  and  gave  his  royal  word 
that  the  man  she  chose  should  be  welcomed  by  her 
sire.  A  royal  train  moved  through  the  provinces 
and  visited  every  court,  for  Savitri  with  her  minis- 
ters and  maidens  would  take  the  air  and  travel  for 
the  princess's  health.  They  received  everywhere  a 
royal  welcome,  but  she  loved  best  the  trees  and 
groves ;  hence,  they  wandered  through  the  fragrant 
woods  and  gathered  fruits  and  flowers  there. 

One  day  they  found  a  hermit,  aged  and  blind,  who 
with  his  faithful  wife  sat  in  the  dense  shade  of  a 
teak  tree,  whose  abundant  leaves  gleamed  in  the 
sunshine  above  them  and  protected  them  from  its 
heat.  The  gentle  princess  stayed  to  give  them  a 
few  kindly  words  and  enjoy  the  wild  flowers  around 
the  hermitage.  "SMiile  she  listened  to  their  story,  a 
young  man  came  from  the  thicket  bearing  the  sa- 
cred wood  to  be  used  in  the  evening  sacrifice.  He 
stopped  in  wonder  and  admiration  before  Savitri, 
and  her  eyes  rested  a  moment  upon  his  manly  form 
and  honest  face.  It  was  Satyavan,  the  hermit's 
son,  who  stayed  to  serve  his  aged  parents  in  their 


16    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

banishment.  The  princess  had  dawned  upon  his 
vision  like  a  dream  of  heaven,  and  lil^e  a  dream  she 
vanished  from  his  woodland  home,  leaving  her 
memory  to  haunt  his  steps  and  make  his  loneliness 
more  terrible.  In  the  still  hours  of  the  night  he 
heard  her  voice  and  saw  the  lovely  face  which  had 
become  part  of  his  being. 

One  day  the  Maha-raja  sat  in  his  council  hall 
with  the  sage  Narada.  They  were  talking  in  low 
tones  of  the  affairs  of  state  when  the  Idng's  daugh- 
ter was  announced.  With  her  dark  eyes  glowing 
with  light  and  happiness  she  stepped  into  the  royal 
presence  and  bowed  meekly  before  her  father,  who 
laid  his  hand  lovingly  upon  her  dark  hair,  as  he 
bent  down  and  caressed  his  child.  Narada  looked 
in  admiration  upon  the  princess  and  said  to  the 
king,  "  Thy  daughter  is  very  fair.  Thou  shouldst 
give  her  in  marriage  to  the  raja  of  some  goodly 
kingdom." 

"  For  this  purpose  she  has  been  abroad,"  replied 
the  king.  Then,  turning  to  his  daughter,  he  said, 
"  My  child,  hast  thou  chosen  thy  lord?  "  But  she 
answered  not.  Standing  before  the  sage  with  her 
face  crimsoned  with  blushes,  her  eyes  mutely  ap- 
pealed to  her  father  to  stay  his  questions.  Reading 
her  wish,  he  said,  "  Fear  not,  my  child,  to  speak 
before  the  sage  Narada ;  he  is  thy  father's  best  and 
truest  friend;  but  tell  me  if  thou  hast  found  the 
object  of  thy  search." 

Then  she  answered:  "Father,  I  have  been  long 
away ;  I  have  visited  the  courts  of  princes ;  I  have 


SAYITIirS  CHOICE  17 

offered  sacrifice  in  the  sacred  groves,  and  I  have 
found  in  one  of  these  the  banished  king  of  Chalva, 
who  lost  his  throne  and  kingdom  because  of  blind- 
ness. An  usurper  reigns  upon  his  throne,  and  his 
faithful  queen  stays  with  him  in  the  woodland  cot. 
Their  loyal  son  ministers  to  their  wants ;  he  brings 
them  fruit  and  game  for  food;  he  feeds  their  sacri- 
ficial fire  and  pulls  the  sacred  kusa  grass  to  make 
their  couch  both  soft  and  warm;  he  brings  fresh 
water  from  the  passing  brook  and  gives  them  love 
and  tenderness  in  their  daily  need.  Father,  I  have 
chosen  him,  this  banished  prince,  to  be  my  lord." 

Then  said  Narada,  '-  Not  he,  my  child, — thou 
canst  not  choose  the  banished  Satyavan.  He  is 
both  brave  and  noble ;  a  grander  youth  ne'er  trod  a 
kingly  court,  but  o'er  his  head  there  hangs  a  fearful 
fate.  He  is  doomed  to  die,  and  in  a  year  the  gods 
decide  that  he  must  go."  Her  blushes  fled  and  her 
cheeks  grew  strangely  pale  as  she  answered: 
"  Whether  he  live  long  or  die  to-day,  whether  he  be 
full  of  grace  and  wisdom,  or  graceless  stand  before 
me,  my  heart  hath  chosen  once — it  chooseth  not 
again,  and  I  have  my  father's  royal  pledge  that  he 
will  ratify  my  decision." 

Then  said  the  king,  "  Kemember,  child,  the  sad 
lot  of  Hindu  widowhood,  and  choose  again.  The 
noblest  raja  in  the  land  w^ould  gladly  call  thee  wife. 
Let  not  this  banished  youth  who  has  only  a  year  to 
live  take  my  peerless  Indian  gem  into  his  rough 
woodland  home." 

The  dark  eyes  were  raised  again  to  his  and  in 


18    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

their  liquid  depths  lie  read  her  answer  even  before 
her  lips  replied,  "A  loyal  heart  can  choose  but  once, 
and  a  loyal  sire  will  not  revoke  his  promise." 

Then  the  raja  sighed,  "As  thou  wilt,  dear  child, 
but  for  thine  own  sake  I  would  have  had  thee  make 
a  wiser  choice."  One  quick  look  of  gratitude 
flashed  from  the  wondrous  eyes,  then  bending  her 
blushing  face  to  kiss  her  father's  hand  and  rever- 
ently bidding  the  sage  farewell,  she  left  the  council 
hall. 

Having  given  his  royal  sanction  to  his  daughter's 
choice,  the  king  ordered  that  preparations  should 
be  made  for  the  coming  nuptials.  Though  the  bride 
should  dwell  in  a  lonely  hermitage,  she  would  still 
be  a  king's  daughter,  and  her  robes  even  in  the 
woodland  should  befit  her  noble  birth.  It  was  an 
imperial  pageant  that  went  forth  to  the  humble 
dwelling  of  the  hermit.  There  were  the  priests  and 
sages  and  courtiers,  and  the  royal  family,  mounted 
upon  the  war  elephants  with  their  costly  trap- 
pings. 

Amid  the  strains  of  martial  music  the  train  went 
forth  from  the  palace  gates.  No  courier  had  been 
sent  to  give  warning  of  their  coming ;  therefore  the 
king  ordered  a  halt  when  near  the  hermitage,  and 
he  himself  went  forward  to  hold  council  with  the 
blind  lord  of  the  humble  home.  Courteous  saluta- 
tions were  passed  between  them  and  after  extend- 
ing the  modest  hospitalities  that  still  were  his,  the 
blind  king  asked  what  brought  the  Maha-raja  to  his 
door.     "  I  have  come,"  said  he,  "  to  ask  of  you  that 


SAVITRl'S  CHOICE  19 

you  will  ratify  my  daughter's  choice;  she  hath 
chosen  your  son  Satyavan  to  be  her  lord." 

Then  answered  the  banished  king,  "  In  the  days 
of  my  proud  position  it  was  my  ambition  to  link 
my  house  with  yours  by  ties  of  blood,  O  noble  King ! 
but  now  that  my  kingdom  is  lost  and  I  am  but  a 
dethroned  and  banished  sovereign,  I  could  not  take 
the  lovely  princess  from  her  palace  home  to  share 
our  humble  fate." 

But  the  raja  replied,  "  You  and  I  are  both  too  old 
to  think  that  happiness  is  dependent  upon  luxury. 
We  know  that  love  can  hold  her  sylvan  court  in 
humblest  bower,  and  your  son  is  the  lady's  choice. 
She  has  chosen  to  dwell  in  modest  guise  with  him 
she  loves  rather  than  share  the  splendors  of  an- 
other.    Shall  we  deny  her  wish?  " 

"  Nay,  never,"  said  the  banished  king.  "  Her 
gracious  wish  is  mine,  and  great  honor  she  brings 
to  our  fallen  house.  May  the  blessings  of  Indra 
rest  upon  her  beauteous  head ! "  And  calling 
Satyavan  he  told  him  why  the  raja  came.  The  be- 
wildered prince  could  scarcely  believe  the  lovely 
princess  had  chosen  him.  His  words  were  few ;  but 
his  eyes  were  eloquent  with  the  joy  his  lips  refused 
to  voice. 

Then  the  royal  train  was  ordered  into  view,  and 
there  beneath  the  massive  trees  were  gathered 
priest  and  sage  with  golden  jars  filled  from  the 
waves  of  the  sacred  Ganges.  Beyond  the  great 
trees  where  the  hermitage  stood  were  thickets  of 
rose  laurel,  whose  fragrance  filled  the  air;  on  the 


20    HEROINES  OF  HISTOEY  A:NT>  LEGEND 

other  side  a  silver  brook  was  hastening  by  to  find 
rest  on  the  bosom  of  a  clear  lake,  beneath  the  fra- 
grant cups  of  lotus  blossoms  and  white  lilies.  Here 
in  Nature's  temple,  beneath  her  shining  dome  and 
beside  her  sacred  pools,  with  legal  rites  the  two 
were  bound  in  holy  marriage;  and  Love  stayed  by 
and  held  his  court  where  the  royal  lovers  pledged 
their  faith. 

The  raja  and  his  queen  bade  their  child  a  fond 
farewell,  and  when  they  passed  from  sight  the 
princess  took  from  her  hands  and  arms  the  costly 
jewels  that  she  wore  and  laid  aside  her  silken  robes ; 
then  on  her  delicate  form  she  placed  the  rough  gar- 
ments that  befitted  her  new  station  as  a  hermit's 
wife.  Thus  she  proved  the  great  love  that  brought 
her  here ;  she  could  not  wear  a  finer  robe  than  he ; 
she  could  not  see  her  little  hands  decked  with  gold 
and  gems  while  his  were  roughened  with  honest 
toil.  She  had  chosen  to  share  the  fortune  of  the 
man  she  loved,  and  no  ray  of  barbaric  splendor 
should  suggest  to  him  that  she  cared  for  things  he 
could  not  furnish.  The  gray-haired  mother  looked 
smilingly  on  and  loved  the  loyal  wife,  whose  gra- 
cious ways  and  loving  words  soon  won  the  heart  of 
the  banished  king  as  well. 

The  little  family  dwelt  In  their  forest  home  in 
sweet  content  and  the  days  went  by  on  silver  feet. 
To  Satyavan  it  seemed  that  life's  ills  all  were  done, 
and  he  rested  in  the  heaven  of  his  happiness,  feeling 
that  the  gods  could  do  no  more.  But  Savitri  carried 
in  her  loving  heart  a  fearful  dread — a  counting  of 


SAVITRI'S  CHOICE  21 

the  days  when  the  death  decree  should  be  fulfilled. 
When  the  sun  went  down  in  the  sea  and  the 
soft  folds  of  night  cooled  the  fevered  earth, 
she  knew  that  one  day  less  remained  to  Satya- 
van. 

At  last  the  days  had  nearly  fled — the  little  wife 
grew  strangely  still ;  her  gentle,  loving  deeds  were 
still  her  own,  but  her  songs  were  hushed  in  tearful 
prayers.  When  the  time  was  nearly  come  she  sat 
beneath  a  great  tree  like  a  beautiful  statue  and 
neither  ate  nor  drank.  For  three  long  days  and 
nights  she  sat  thus,  mutely  imploring  the  gods  to 
save  from  death's  decree  the  man  she  loved.  Dur- 
ing all  the  year  she  had  carried  the  fatal  secret  in 
her  own  faithful  heart.  She  could  not  pain  the 
others  with  the  weight  of  her  terrible  woe,  and  they 
wondered  now  at  the  severity  of  her  penance ;  but 
they  thought  she  craved  some  great  gift  of  the  gods, 
and  they  could  not  deny  her  wish. 

The  fateful  day  dawned  at  last  and  found  her 
weak  and  faint,  but  she  would  not  taste  of  food. 
Only  one  plea  she  made — that  she  might  go  with 
Satyavan  when  he  went  out  into  the  forest  to  cut 
the  sacred  wood  for  the  evening  sacrifice. 

Tenderly  he  remonstrated,  "  The  way  is  rough 
and  thy  little  feet  are  tender ;  the  mother's  side  is  a 
safer  place  for  thee."  But  still  she  pleaded,  "I 
cannot  let  thee  go  unless  I  am  with  thee";  and 
Satyavan  looked  down  into  the  depths  of  her  tear- 
ful eyes,  that  looked  back  love  and  tenderness  into 
his  own.     Then  said  he,  "  Surely  thou  shalt  go  and 


22    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

make  the  dark  wood  glad  with  thy  sweet  pres- 
ence." 

Cheerily  he  set  out  axe  in  hand  through  the  wil- 
derness, making  a  path  for  the  little  feet  that  pa- 
tiently followed  his  own.  The  morning  was  won- 
drously  bright;  flower-laden  trees  stood  here  and 
there  along  the  pathway ;  gigantic  climbers  grew  in 
the  thickets  in  great  profusion,  interlacing  the 
smaller  trees  and  even  piling  their  gorgeous  blos- 
soms upon  their  heads.  The  sunlight  lay  upon  the 
surface  of  the  little  lake  near  their  home,  and  bright 
water-birds  hovered  above  the  reeds  and  rushes,  or 
settled  down  amidst  the  white  lilies  and  fragrant 
lotus  cups  near  the  water's  edge.  Away  in  the  dis- 
tance the  Himalayas  lifted  their  snowy  brows  into 
the  blue  heavens  and  reflected  the  sun's  rays  from 
their  icy  peaks. 

"Is  it  not  beautiful?"  said  Satyavan,  pointing 
to  the  landscape  around  him,  or  directing  her  atten- 
tion to  the  strange  wild  flowers  springing  from  the 
mosses  at  their  feet.  And  smiling  the  little  wife  re- 
plied, even  while  the  fearful  dread  around  her  heart 
almost  stayed  its  beating. 

Afar  from  home,  they  gathered  fruits  and  flowers 
for  the  evening  sacrifice,  and  all  the  while  the  anx- 
ious wife  watched  with  aching  heart  every  look  and 
motion  of  her  lord.  He  struck  the  tree  to  gather 
sacred  wood,  and  blow  after  blow  of  his  axe  echoed 
through  the  forest.  At  last  he  reeled  in  sudden 
pain  and  cried,  "  I  cannot  work  " ;  then  falling  at 
her  feet  he  fainted  there.     Quicldy  the  beloved  head 


SAVITRl'S  CHOICE  23 

was  laid  upon  her  lap,  and  eagerly  she  strove  by 
chafing  the  temples  and  tired  hands  to  bring  the  life 
tide  back.  She  knew  it  was  the  day  of  fate,  but 
still  she  could  not  yield. 

Suddenly  at  her  side  she  saw  a  fearful  shape, 
that  was  neither  god  nor  man — tall  and  dark  with 
visage  grim,  he  looked  down  pitilessly  upon  them 
both.  His  garments  were  crimson,  as  if  with 
blood;  his  cruel  eyes  glowed  like  burning  coals  in 
their  deep  sockets.  In  one  hand  he  bore  a  long 
black  noose  and  bent  over  Satyavan.  As  the  spec- 
tre leaned  above  her  husband,  the  trembling 
princess  laid  the  head  tenderly  upon  the  ground, 
and  springing  up  reverently  folded  her  hands  in 
supplication,  and  prayed  to  know  who  he  was  and 
why  he  came.  He  answered,  "  I  am  Yama,  the  god 
of  death,  and  I  am  come  to  bear  away  the  soul  of 
Satyavan." 

"  But,"  pleaded  the  wife,  "  'tis  thy  messengers 
that  bear  away  the  souls  of  men.  Why  is  it,  mighty 
chiof,  that  thou  hast  come?  " 

"  Because  Prince  Satyavan  was  the  grandest, 
noblest  of  his  race,"  replied  the  god,  "and  none 
save  Yama's  self  was  worthy  to  bear  his  soul  away." 
And  bending  lower  still  he  fitted  the  dreadful  noose 
and  drew  out  the  soul  of  Satyavan ;  then  silently  he 
strode  away  toward  the  southland  with  his  prize, 
leaving  the  poor  body  pale  and  cold,  with  life  and 
grace  and  beauty  gone. 

But  the  stricken  princess  followed  him.  With 
her  hands  folded  in  supplication  she  hastened  on 


24    HEROINES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGEND 

behind  this  fearful  King  of  Death.  At  last  he 
turned.  "  Go  back,"  said  he ;  "  why  dost  thou  fol- 
low in  my  steps?  No  mortal  e'er  has  dared  to  come 
whither  I  shall  go.  Go  back  and  perform  the  fu- 
neral rites  for  thy  dead  lord." 

But  she  replied:  "Wherever  my  lord  is  borne, 
there  I  shall  surely  go ;  he  is  my  life,  my  all ;  I  can- 
not leave  him,  and  I  must  go  with  thee.  By  reason 
of  my  wifely  love  thou  wilt  let  me  come."  And 
still  she  followed  on  until  the  King  of  Death  him- 
self felt  pity  for  the  faithful  wife,  and,  turning 
back,  he  said :  "  Return,  my  child,  to  life  and  health. 
Thy  wifely  love  is  good,  but  the  Idngdom  of  Yama 
is  not  the  place  for  thee.  Still,  I  will  grant  thee 
any  boon  that  thou  dost  crave,  except  this  life  that 
I  am  bearing  away." 

Then  said  Savitri,  "  Let  the  blind  and  banished 
king,  my  husband's  father,  have  both  his  sight  and 
throne  restored."  "  It  shall  be  so,"  returned  the 
god.  "  I  grant  thee  this  because  of  thy  purity  and 
fidelity;  but  now  turn  back;  our  way  is  long  and 
dark,  thy  little  feet  are  already  weary,  and  thou 
wilt  die  upon  the  road." 

"  I  am  not  weary,"  said  Savitri,  "  I  cannot  tire 
while  I  am  near  to  Satyavan.  Wherever  he  is 
borne,  there  the  loyal  wife  must  go."  And  the  tire- 
less feet  toiled  patiently  on  behind  the  King  of 
Death  until  he  turned  again  and  said :  "  Darkness 
is  coming  on;  soon  thou  canst  not  find  thy  way 
alone.  I  will  give  to  thee  another  boon — anything 
except  this  life,  and  then  thou  must  return." 


SAYITRI'S  CHOICE  25 

Quickly  the  princess  thought  of  her  own  sire, 
whose  only  child  now  followed  Death — thought  of 
his  lonely  home  and  coming  age,  and  she  said, 
"  Give  to  my  father  princely  sons  to  bear  his  royal 
name.  This  is  the  boon  I  crave,  O  mighty  one." 
"  So  shall  it  be,"  returned  the  king;  "and  now  I 
have  granted  thy  wishes,  go  back  to  life  and  light." 
But  she  only  answered  plaintively,  "  I  cannot  go, 
great  king.  I  cannot  leave  my  lord.  Thou  hast 
taken  him  and  my  heart  is  in  thy  hand.  I  must 
surely  come  with  thee." 

Darkness  came  slowly  down  in  the  dense  forest, 
and  her  tender  feet  were  torn  with  thorns  and  cut 
with  the  sharp  stones  of  the  rugged  path.  Hungry 
wolves  and  jackals  pressed  around  her,  while  night 
birds  spread  their  black  wings  above  her  and  start- 
led the  silence  with  their  cries.  Trembling  with 
terror  and  faint  with  grief  and  hunger,  she  still 
pursued  her  way.  Her  tear-blinded  eyes  could  no 
longer  see  the  terrible  shape  she  followed,  but  she 
heard  his  footfalls  and  almost  felt  his  fearful 
strides,  for  it  seemed  that  every  step  came  down 
upon  her  bleeding  heart. 

At  last  they  came  to  a  cavern,  dark  and  damp  as 
death  itself,  and  here  again  Yama  turned  upon  the 
pitiful  figure  in  the  darkness  behind  him,  and  this 
time  he  fiercely  demanded,  "Art  thou  still  upon  my 
track?  If  thou  wert  not  so  true  and  good,  I  would 
take  thee  in  my  arms,  and  my  worms  should  feed 
upon  thy  beauty;  but  thou  art  truth  itself,  and  I 


26    HEEOmES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

will  give  to  thee,  poor  child,  one  more  boon.  In 
pity  for  thy  grief  I  will  give  thee  anything  thou  wilt 
— except  this  life  within  my  hand." 

Then  answered  Savitri,  "  Give  me  children — the 
sons  of  Satyavan.  Let  me  bear  to  him  brave,  loyal 
heirs  of  his  goodness  and  his  truth." 

Death  grimly  smiled.  Should  he  be  conquered 
yet  by  this  little  Hindu  wife?  But  he  answered: 
"  Yama  hath  promised  thee,  and  I  must  grant  thee 
even  this." 

Then  with  rapid  strides  he  entered  the  great 
vault  of  the  cavern,  while  the  startled  bats  and  owls 
flapped  their  dark  wings  and  made  the  place  more 
hideous  with  their  cries.  But  still  he  heard  the 
patter  of  patient  feet  behind  him,  and  his  burn- 
ing eyeballs  blazed  in  the  darlmess  upon  poor  Sa- 
vitri. 

"  Go  back,"  he  said.  "  Thou  shalt  return ;  I  will 
bear  no  longer  with  thy  persistent  following !  " 

"  I  would  go  back,  O  mighty  Yama,  if  I  could," 
wailed  the  weary  wife,  "but  in  your  hands  you 
carry  my  own  life.  'Tis  only  my  helpless  frame 
that  follows  thee,  and  now  I  am  so  weak  with  grief 
and  fear  that  I  must  come  nearer  to  Satyavan  " ; 
and  the  tired  head  drooped  upon  the  dark,  cold 
hand  of  Death,  close  to  the  life  she  craved. 

The  pitiless  king  felt  the  soft  touch  of  tear-wet 
cheeks  and  clinging  hair,  and  again  his  cruel  heart 
was  softened  by  her  faithful  love.  "  Thou  art  inno- 
cence itself,  and  tenderness  and  truth,"  said  Yama. 
"  Thou  hast  taught  me  lessons  new  of  woman's 


SAYITKI'S  CHOICE  27 

fidelity.  Ask  any  boon  thou  wilt,  and  it  shall  be 
thine." 

Then  at  his  feet  she  fell  in  grateful  joy  and  ten- 
derly caressed  them.  "  This  time,  O  King,"  she 
cried,  "  thou  hast  excepted  nothing,  and  I  ask  not 
wealth,  nor  throne,  nor  heaven  itself.  I  crave  my 
heart,  my  life — give  me  my  Satyavan !  " 

The  fire  in  his  eyes  beamed  more  softly,  and  the 
light  in  them  was  almost  tender  as  he  said :  "  Fair 
Queen,  thou  art  the  brightest  gem  of  womankind. 
Here,  take  thy  Satyavan.  Saved  by  his  peerless 
wife,  he  long  shall  live  and  reign  with  her,  and  his 
line  shall  be  upheld  by  princely  sons  who  shall  call 
thee  mother.  Go  now,  my  child,  time  hasteth,  and 
long  hast  thou  been  with  me." 

Then,  turning  gloomily  away,  he  went  down — 
down  into  the  darlmess  of  the  cavern.  But  the 
glad  wife,  holding  her  precious  treasure  close  to 
her  heart,  retraced  her  steps  back  through  the  dark- 
ness of  cavern  and  wood,  her  torn  feet  climbing  the 
ascending  pathway,  fearing  nothing,  knowing  noth- 
ing, save  that  in  her  arms  she  carried  her  beloved. 

It  was  dark  in  the  forest,  where  the  dense  foliage 
almost  shut  out  the  light  of  noontime,  but  it  was 
lighter  here  where  only  little  groves  of  sacrod  fig 
trees  and  thickets  of  flowering  shrubs  obscured  the 
vision,  and  traces  of  gold  and  crimson  still  lingered 
round  the  setting  sun.  Thankful  for  the  light,  she 
hastened  to  where  the  body  lay,  and  raising  the 
head,  pressed  it  tenderly  again  to  her  bosom,  and 
gently  wooed  the  life  tide  back  to  heart  and  pulse. 


28    HEEOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Soft  and  warm  his  hand  became,  and  his  lips  moved 
to  speak  a  tender  word  that  had  died  upon  them 
when  Yama  came.  The  evening  light  was  gone, 
and  darkness  came  down  with  velvet  touch  around 
them,  but  the  glorious  stars  came  out  and  the  south- 
ern constellations  flashed  like  crown  jewels  above 
the  living  prince  and  his  loyal  wife. 


JEPHTHA'S   DAUGHTER 

Lord  Byron 

Since  our  Country,  our  God — Oh,  my  Sire  I 
Demand  that  thy  daughter  expire ; 
Since  thy  triumph  was  bought  by  thy  vow — 
Strike  the  bosom  that's  bared  for  thee  now ! 

And  the  voice  of  my  mourning  is  o'er, 
And  the  mountains  behold  me  no  more : 
If  the  hand  that  I  love  lay  me  low, 
There  cannot  be  pain  in  the  blow ! 

And  of  this,  oh,  my  father !  be  sure — 
That  the  blood  of  thy  child  is  as  pure 
As  the  blessing  I  beg  ere  it  flow. 
And  the  last  thought  that  soothes  me  below. 

Though  the  virgins  of  Salem  lament. 
Be  the  judge  and  the  hero  unbent! 
I  have  won  the  great  battle  for  thee. 
And  my  Father  and  Country  are  free ! 

When  this  blood  of  thy  giving  hath  gush'd. 
When  the  voice  that  thou  lovest  is  hush'd, 
Let  my  memory  still  be  thy  pride. 
And  forget  not  I  smiled  as  I  died ! 


29 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 

Extract  from  A  Dream  of  Fair  Women 

Lord  Tennyson 

Slowly  my  sense  uudazzled.    Then  I  heard 
A  noise  of  some  one  coming  thro'  the  lawn, 
And  singing  clearer  than  the  crested  bird 
That  claps  his  wings  at  dawn : 

"  The  torrent  brooks  of  hallow'd  Israel 

From  craggy  hollows  pouring,  late  and  soon, 
Sound  all  night  long,  in  falling  thro'  the  dell, 
Far-heard  beneath  the  moon. 

"  The  balmy  moon  of  blessed  Israel 

Floods  all  the  deep-blue  gloom  with  beams 
divine ; 
All  night  the  splinter'd  crags  that  wall  the  dell 
With  spires  of  silver  shine." 

As  one  that  museth  where  broad  sunshine  laves 

The  lawn  by  some  cathedral,  thro'  the  door 
Hearing  the  holy  organ  rolling  waves 
Of  sound  on  roof  and  floor 

Within,  and  anthem  sung,  is  charm'd  and  tied 

To  where  he  stands, — so  stood  I,  when  that  flow 
Of  music  left  the  lips  of  her  that  died 
To  save  her  father's  vow; 
30 


I  El-UillAU's    DaIUHIKU    LuMI.NC.     iu    Mi-.i'.i    LU.i.    iAlliLl.. 

From  I'aintinij  by  Gustave  Dort. 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER  31 

The  daughter  of  the  warrior  Gileadite, 

A  maiden  puie ;  as  wheu  slie  went  along 
From  Mizpch's  tower'd  gate  with  welcome  light, 
With  timbrel  and  with  song. 

Mj  words  leapt  forth :  "  Heaven  heads  the  count 
of  crimes 
With  that  wild  oath."      She  render'd  answer 
high : 
"  Not  so ;  nor  once  alone,  a  thousand  times 
I  would  be  born  and  die. 

"  Single  I  grew,  like  some  green  plant,  whose  root 
Creeps  to  the  garden  water-pipes  beneath, 
Feeding  the  flower ;  but  ere  my  flower  to  fruit 
Changed,  I  was  ripe  for  death. 

"  My  God,  my  land,  my  father — ^these  did  move 
Me  from  my  bliss  of  life,  that  Nature  gave, 
Lower'd  softly  with  a  threefold  cord  of  love 
Down  to  a  silent  grave. 

"  And  I  went  mourning,  *  No  fair  Hebrew  boy 
Shall  smile  away  my  maiden  blame  among 
The  Hebrew  mothers  ' — emptied  of  all  joy, 
Leaving  the  dance  and  song, 

"  Leaving  the  olive-gardens  far  below. 

Leaving  the  promise  of  my  bridal  bower, 
The  valleys  of  grape-loaded  vines  that  glow 
Beneath  the  battled  tower. 


32    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

"  The  light  white  cloud  swam  over  us.    Anon 
We  heard  the  lion  roaring  from  his  den ; 
We  saw  the  large  white  stars  rise  one  by  one, 
Or,  from  the  darken'd  glen, 

"  Saw  God  divide  the  night  with  flying  flame, 
And  thunder  on  the  everlasting  hills. 
I  heard  Him,  for  He  spake,  and  grief  became 
A  solemn  scorn  of  ills. 

"  When  the  next  moon  was  roll'd  into  the  sky. 
Strength  came  to  me  that  equall'd  my  desire. 
How  beautiful  a  thing  it  was  to  die 
For  God  and  for  my  sire ! 

"  It  comforts  me  in  this  one  thought  to  dwell. 
That  I  subdued  me  to  my  father's  will ; 
Because  the  kiss  he  gave  me,  ere  I  fell. 
Sweetens  the  spirit  still. 

"  Moreover  it  is  written  that  my  race 

Hew'd  Ammon,  hip  and  thigh,  from  Aroer 
On  Arnon  unto  Minneth."     Here  her  face 
Glow'd  as  I  look'd  at  her. 

She  lock'd  her  lips ;  she  left  me  where  I  stood : 

"  Glory  to  God,"  she  sang,  and  past  afar, 
Thridding  the  sombre  boskage  of  the  wood, 
Toward  the  morning-star. 


TWO   IMMORTAL  NAMES 

Elizabeth  W.  Champney 

One  spring  day  nearly  five  hundred  years  before 
Christ,  a  Greek  boy  and  girl  stood  earnestly  talking 
before  the  palace  of  the  King  of  Sparta.  The  girl 
was  Hervina,  one  of  the  maids  of  honor  of  the  wife 
of  the  brave  King  Leonidas,  and  the  boy  was  her 
brother  Ephialtes,  one  of  the  king's  favorite  pages, 
a  handsome  youth  and  an  expert  in  athletic  sports. 

In  Sparta,  at  this  period,  great  attention  was 
paid  to  physical  exercise ;  even  the  girls  were  drilled 
in  gymnasiums,  and  Hervina  was  one  of  the  fleetest 
runners  in  all  the  country  round,  while  her  brother 
was  an  accomplished  boxer,  tumbler  and  wrestler, 
as  well  as  a  reckless  rider  and  furious  driver.  He 
was  as  ambitious  as  he  was  handsome,  his  ruling 
motive  an  overweening  fondness  for  praise.  The 
Lady  Gorgo,  the  wife  of  King  Leonidas,  sometimes 
shook  her  head  and  said  she  feared  Ephialtes  was 
too  ambitious,  for  his  desire  of  excelling  made  him 
unscrupulous  of  ways  and  means.  But  Leonidas 
patted  the  shoulder  of  his  favorite,  and  said  that 
ambition  and  love  of  praise  rightly  directed  were 
good  steeds  if  held  in  with  the  rein  of  principle. 

There  was  something  in  Ephialtes'  keen,  watch- 

33 


34    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

fill,  but  sidelong  glance  which  migiit  have  reminded 
one  of  Plato's  words :  "  Have  you  never  yet  observed 
of  those  that  are  termed  'wicked  yet  clever/  how 
sharply  the  little  soul  looks  out?  "  He  seemed  ever 
on  the  watch  for  means  of  benefiting  himself  by 
every  circumstance  and  occurrence.  Just  now 
while  the  city  resounded  with  lamentation  at  the 
news  just  received  by  a  herald  that  the  Persians 
were  advancing  upon  Greece,  Ephialtes'  face  was 
flushed  with  delight,  and  he  trembled  with  excite- 
ment as  he  related  his  own  personal  plans  to  Her- 
vina. 

"  The  Persians  are  really  upon  the  march,"  he 
exclaimed ;  "  Xerxes  commands  in  person  the  land 
force,  which  is  going  around  through  Asia  Minor, 
while  a  navy  of  innumerable  ships  follows  him  by 
sea." 

Hervina  turned  pale.  "  He  means  to  avenge  his 
father's  disgrace  ten  years  ago  at  Marathon." 

"Ah,  didn't  the  Athenians  whip  him  well  there !  " 
exclaimed  the  boy.  "  I  hope  the  Spartans  will  do 
some  of  the  fighting  this  time.  A  congress  of  the 
rulers  of  all  the  states  of  Greece  has  been  sum- 
moned to  meet  at  Corinth  to  concert  measures  of 
defense.  Leonidas  is  at  this  moment  bidding  adieu 
to  the  queen.  He  wishes  to  reach  Corinth  with  all 
despatch,  and  has  chosen  me  to  conduct  his  chariot, 
for  he  knows  no  one  can  better  manage  his  Thessa- 
lian  horses.  Mark  me,  Hervina,  I  go  a  simple  char- 
ioteer ;  but  when  this  war  is  over  my  name  shall  be 
famous.    I  have  consulted  the  oracle,  and  have  re- 


TWO  IMMOKTAL  NAMES'  35 

ceived  the  response  that  of  all  the  Spartans  who 
march  out,  the  names  alone  of  Leonidas  and 
Ephialtes  shall  be  handed  down  to  posterity." 

As  he  spoke,  a  groom  led  up  the  champing  horses 
and  gilded  cliariot,  a  curtain  was  withdrawn  from 
a  portal  of  the  palace,  and  Leonidas  came  down  the 
steps  dressed  in  armor.  He  motioned  to  Ephialtes, 
who  took  the  reins  and  leapt  gracefully  to  his  posi- 
tion. Then  Leonidas  mounted,  waved  his  hand  to 
the  Lady  Gorgo,  and  the  chariot  rolled  away. 

Then  came  a  weary  waiting-time,  varied  by  mes- 
sages which  brought  dismay.  Now  they  heard  of 
the  advance  of  the  Persian  fleet,  of  the  sacking  of 
towns  and  cities,  and  once  or  twice  hurried  missives 
came  from  Corinth  from  Leonidas.  One  ran  as 
follows : 

^'  I  am  consumed  with  impatience,"  Leonidas 
wrote,  "to  begin  hostilities  at  once,  to  march  for- 
ward with  my  brave  Spartans  to  meet  the  foe.  In- 
stead of  this,  I  find  myself  involved  in  argument 
and  conciliation,  in  the  persuasion  and  threatening 
of  our  brother  rulers  to  undertake  this  war.  From 
Argos  and  Boeotia  we  have  nothing  to  hope.  The 
Korkyraians  profess  to  have  sent  us  sixty  ships,  but 
they  have  not  arrived.  I  fear  that  they  have  de- 
serted to  the  enemy.  Genlon,  the  despot  of  Syra- 
cuse, offers  to  bear  the  whole  expense  of  the  war  if 
we  will  recognize  him  as  our  leader;  but  to  this 
none  of  the  congress  will  agree,  and  Genlon  has  sent 
us  an  insulting  message  that  we  are  likely  to  have 
many  leaders  but  few  to  be  led.     The  greater  part 


36    HEROIII^S  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

of  tlie  congress  are  now  so  terrified  by  the  approach 
of  the  Persians  that  they  are  for  sending  Xerxes  at 
once  a  present  of  earth  and  water  in  token  of  our 
submission  to  him.  I  am  no  orator  or  statesman, 
and  all  I  could  do  in  answer  to  such  dishonorable 
proposals  was  to  pour  out  my  soul  in  wrath  and  in- 
dignation. Fortunately  the  skilled  general  and 
leader,  Themistocles,  is  one  of  the  Athenian  dele- 
gation. His  patriotism  and  bravery  equal  my 
own,  while  his  prudence  and  wily  power  of  govern- 
ing men  and  making  all  things  subservient  to  his 
will  are  something  at  which  I  admire  and  wonder. 
He  works  night  and  day,  and  keeps  four  scribes 
writing  constantly,  demanding  help  from  Crete, 
Sicily  and  the  other  island  allies  of  Greece ;  making 
requisitions  of  supplies,  moneys  and  men  from 
every  state;  numbering  the  army,  fitting  out  the 
navy,  reconciling  enemies,  encouraging  the  cow- 
ardly, bribing  the  avaricious,  tempting  the  ambi- 
tious. He  is  indefatigable ;  he  is  in  the  saddle  and 
everywhere  at  the  same  moment.  He  pours  forth 
a  stream  of  persuasive  eloquence,  before  the  con- 
gress, and  the  next  moment  is  despatching  a  depu- 
tation of  couriers  with  missives,  or  listening  to  the 
reports  of  his  spies.  I  admire  the  man,  but  his 
work  is  not  my  work,  and  I  long  for  fierce  fighting. 
He  has  promised  me  that  I  shall  lead  in  the  first 
decisive  action.  I  trust  that  all  will  soon  be  ar- 
ranged and  that  we  shall  meet  the  enemy  in  Thrace. 
I  commend  myself  to  thy  prayers. 

"  Lbonidas.^' 


TWO  IMMORTAL  NAMES  37 

This  letter  was  brought  by  Epbialtes  himself. 

"  I  have  received  aii  important  mission,"  he  said. 
"  Themistocles  has  appointed  me  a  spy,  and  I  am 
on  my  way  to  the  Persians.  I  shall  discover  all  I 
can  ^nd  return  with  information  for  the  congress." 

Again  Hervina  could  do  nothing  but  wait  and 
beseech  the  gods.  The  Lady  Gorgo  quieted  her 
own  impatience  by  embroidering  a  marvelous  cro- 
cus-colored robe  for  Minerva.  She  had  designed  a 
strange  border  of  spiders'  webs  ( for  the  spider  was 
sacred  to  Minerva),  and  she  worked  in  the  webs 
with  a  lace  of  silver  thread,  while  the  spiders'  eyes 
were  tiny  emeralds.  While  she  worked  she  be- 
sought Minerva  to  lie  in  the  path  like  a  venomous 
spider  and  bite  the  heel  of  the  invader.  Her 
prayers  were  addressed  not  alone  to  Minerva;  she 
sent  costly  golden  cups  and  vases  to  the  shrines  of 
all  the  other  Grecian  divinities,  and  caused  Her- 
vina and  her  other  maidens  to  sing  in  the  sleepless 
night  while  their  needles  flashed  at  their  embroid- 
ery under  the  flaring  lamps,  an  invocation  to  all  the 
gods  and  goddesses  like  that  written  by  the  poet 
.SIschylus : 

"The  time  demands  it :  why,  then,  why  delay? 
Broider  the  pall,  give  garlands  as  you  pray. 
If  e'er  thy  soul  had  pleasure  in  the  brave, 
God  of  the  golden  helm,  hear.  Mars,  and  save ! 
And  thou  by  whom  the  pawing  steed  arose, 
Great  Neptune,  save  us,  free  us  from  our  foes. 
Thou  terror  of  the  brute,  Apollo,  hear — 
In  all  thy  terrors  rush  upon  the  foe ! 

4-2-078 


38    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Chaste  virgin  huntress,  Dian,  ever  dear, 

Wing  the  keen  arrow  from  thy  ready  bow ! 
By  every  shrine  the  eager  vow  is  paid. 
Hear  us,  ye  guardian  gods,  hear  us  and  aid ! ' ' 

Ephialtes  paused  with  them  for  a  hurried  meal 
on  his  return  from  his  mission.  His  mien  had 
changed.  His  overweening  confidence  was  lost. 
He  had  sprinkled  dust  upon  his  head,  and  his  face 
was  blanched  with  terror. 

"  We  are  lost !  "  he  cried ;  "  the  whole  population 
of  Greece  would  be  as  nothing  to  oppose  to  the  for- 
midable host  approaching.  Xerxes  has  gathered 
ships  by  thousands,  men  by  nations.  I  had  scarce 
come  within  the  lines  before  I  was  detected  and 
brought  before  the  king.  I  felt  certain  that  I  was 
condemned  to  death.  But  no:  he  ordered  one  of 
his  soldiers  to  go  with  me  throughout  the  army  and 
assist  me  in  numbering  his  hosts  and  in  pointing 
out  the  vast  preparations  which  he  had  made  for 
this  war.  After  this  was  over  he  gave  me  a  safe 
conduct  to  return  and  report  to  those  who  sent  me." 

"And  wilt  thou  carry  out  his  design  of  intimidat- 
ing our  generals?  "  asked  Hervina. 

"  What  else  can  I  do?  "  replied  the  boy  moodily. 
"  I  were  an  ill  friend  to  my  country  should  I  falsely 
encourage  its  armies  to  certain  defeat.  Listen, 
Hervina,  and  I  will  tell  thee  of  what  stuff  this  cruel 
and  haughty  tyrant  is  made.  I  came  up  to  him  at 
Mount  Athos.  It  was  upon  this  rocky  promontory 
that  the  ships  of  his  father  were  wrecked.  Here, 
therefore,  he  halted  his  army  and  set  them  to  cut- 


TWO  IMMORTAL  NAMES  39 

ting  a  canal  across  the  isthmus  which  separates  the 
mountain  from  the  mainland.  It  is  a  superhuman 
attempt;  but  ere  I  left  I  saw  the  canal  half  com- 
pleted, and  so  wide  that  two  of  his  double-banked 
gallej's  could  ride  side  by  side.  I  heard,  too,  the 
proclamation  which  he  caused  his  herald  to  read  to 
the  mountain :  '  Hear,  O  Athos,  I  command  thee 
that  thou  refrain  from  doing  damage  to  any  of  my 
ships.  For  so  surely  as  thou  causest  their  ship- 
wreck I  will  pluck  thee  up  by  thy  roots,  and  hurl 
thee  into  the  sea.' 

"And  the  mountain  has  obeyed  him ;  for  instead 
of  acting  as  a  bulwark  and  a  defense  to  Greece,  it 
stiinds  as  a  breakwater  against  the  sea  for  the  Per- 
sians who  ride  in  a  quiet  harbor  behind  it.  Hast 
thou  not  heard  also  how  he  chastised  the  sea  when 
it  had  broken  his  bridge  of  boats  by  Avhich  he 
thought  to  have  crossed  the  Hellespont?  He  caused 
three  hundred  lashes  to  be  applied  to  it,  and  cast 
into  it  a  pair  of  chains  and  manacles,  together  with 
the  heads  of  the  engineers  who  had  constructed  the 
bridge.  If  thus  he  disposes  both  of  the  mountains 
and  the  sea  of  Greece,  surely  we  shall  be  giving  him 
only  that  of  which  he  hath  already  taken  possession 
if  we  send  him  the  earth  and  water  which  he  de- 
mands." 

The  Lady  Gorgo  heard  this  with  flashing  eyes. 
"  Go  and  tell  that  tyrant,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that  as 
yet  he  has  had  to  do  but  with  the  land  and  water 
of  Greece,  but  let  him  reserve  his  boasts  until  he 
hath  met  its  men." 


40    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

The  message  of  Ephialtes  was  received  bravely 
by  Leonidas.  "  Let  me  go,"  he  besought  of  the  con- 
gress, "  and  teach  this  woiild-be  conqueror  that  it  is 
not  the  multitude  of  an  army  that  counts,  but  its 
valor." 

"  It  is  indeed  time,"  replied  Themistocles 
gravely ;  and  the  command  of  the  army  was  at  once 
voted  to  Sparta.  "  I  will  take  seven  thousand  of 
the  allied  forces,"  said  Leonidas,  "  with  three  hun- 
dred of  my  Spartans,  and  we  will  advance  to  the 
defense  of  the  frontier  from  the  land  force,  while  do 
you  plan  for  the  reception  of  the  navy  ere  it  reach 
Athens." 

The  Pass  of  Thermopylae  (or  the  Hot  Gates,  so 
called  from  the  presence  of  hot  mineral  springs  in 
the  neighborhood  and  a  broken  Phocian  wall  which 
had  once  been  provided  with  iron  gates ) ,  a  narrow 
defile  through  Mount  CEtei,  with  craggy  mountains 
upon  the  left  and  an  impassable  bog  upon  the  right, 
was  the  place  chosen  as  a  point  of  defense.  It  was 
the  only  way  from  upper  into  lower  Greece  and  it 
lay  in  the  direct  route  of  the  Persians. 

On  his  way  to  this  position  Leonidas  paused  to 
urge  his  wife  to  retire  with  her  maidens  to  Corinth, 
where  they  would  be  safer  than  in  the  north  of 
Greece.  He  left  Ephialtes  to  escort  them,  and, 
gathering  his  chosen  warriors,  hastened  on  to  Ther- 
mopylae. 

On  their  way  southward  Hervina  noticed  that 
her  brother  had  grown  sullen.  She  understood  his 
discontent;  his  eager  spirit  chafed  at  being  sent 


TWO  IMMORTAL  NAMES  41 

back  with  the  women,  instead  of  being  allowed  to 
share  the  exploits  of  the  warriors. 

The  Lady  Gorgo,  gathering  together  her  women 
and  her  jewels,  assigned  to  Ephialtes  the  guard  of 
the  rear  of  her  little  train.  The  second  day  he 
lagged  behind  more  and  more.  Hervina  drew  the 
rein  of  her  milk-white  palfrey  and  waited  until  he 
came  up.  Their  companions  had  just  disappeared 
around  a  turn  in  the  road.  Ephialtes  looked  up 
and  saw  her  there  alone,  regarding  him  with  sym- 
pathetic, questioning  eyes.  Seizing  her  palfrey's 
rein,  Ephialtes  struck  spurs  to  his  own  steed  and 
galloped  swiftly  toward  the  north. 

At  night  they  slept  under  the  open  sky,  and  by 
day  they  pursued  their  way  steadily  toward  Mount 
(Eta,  whose  steep  sides  they  climbed  by  a  lonely 
and  deserted  road.  Hervina  never  doubted  that 
their  destination  was  Thermopylae,  but  when  they 
reached  the  summit  of  the  mountain  they  found  the 
place,  though  suited  for  a  fastness,  only  slenderly 
guarded  by  a  small  band  of  Phocians. 

"We  seek  Leonidas,"  said  Ephialtes  to  the  sol- 
dier who  barred  his  pathway.  "  Below,"  replied 
the  soldier;  and  he  pointed  to  a  somewhat  wider 
pass  in  the  mountains  below  them,  where,  with  the 
barricade  of  an  ancient  wall  in  front,  the  marsh 
formed  by  the  overflow  of  the  hot  springs  on  their 
right,  and  the  precipitous  cliff,  down  which  Ei)hi- 
altes  now  looked,  upon  their  loft,  the  followers  of 
Leonidas  were  even  now  engaged  in  battle  with  the 
Persians. 


42    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Ephialtes  turned  and  looked  toward  the  west. 
The  camp  of  the  Persians  with  its  myriad  tents 
filled  all  the  valleys,  and  their  foraging  bands  were 
discernible  collecting  cattle  and  prisoners  from  a 
little  hamlet  on  the  mountainside. 

"  Why  has  not  Leonidas  more  heavily  garrisoned 
this  pass?  "  asked  Ephialtes.  "  The  Persians  could 
easily  swarm  up  that  path  and  overcome  you," 

"  There  is  a  good  road  from  here  to  the  Hot 
Gates ;  we  have  only  to  fall  back,  follow  this  ridge 
downward,  turn  to  the  left,  and  find  ourselves  safe 
in  the  rear  of  Leonidas." 

"  Yes,  but  the  Persians  could  follow — then 
Leonidas  would  be  hemmed  in  on  every  side." 

The  soldier  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Mars  for- 
bid that  any  one  inform  the  Persians  of  the  path 
leading  hither,"  he  replied.  Further  conversation 
was  suspended  as  they  watched  the  attack  upon  the 
Spartans  at  the  Hot  Gates. 

Huge  rocks  were  rolled  down  upon  the  Persians ; 
but  their  front  ranks  were  driven  forward  by  those 
behind,  and  again  and  again  pressed  to  the  onset, 
only  to  be  driven  back  with  slaughter. 

"  He  has  conquered  for  to-day,"  exclaimed  Ephi- 
altes. "  That  general  with  the  glittering  helm  is 
Mardonius ;  he  fought  at  Marathon  ten  years  ago ; 
he  knows  the  temper  of  our  Greeks — see,  he  is  try- 
ing in  vain  to  rally  his  men.  But  they  retire,  while 
Leonidas  has  respite  to  prepare  for  a  fiercer  strug- 
gle. Exercising  in  the  plain  below  is  the  Immortal 
Band.     See  the  gleam  of  the  gold  and  silver  pome- 


TWO  IMMORTAL  NAMES  43 

granates  at  their  lance-heads !  Should  they  be  or- 
dered to  charge,  Leoiiidas  would  have  to  surren- 
der." 

The  Phocian  soldier  smiled  grimly.  "  You  know 
more  of  the  Persians,  my  fine  youth,  than  of  Leon- 
idas,"  he  said  scornfully.  "  Yonder  Immortal  Band 
is  even  now  upon  the  march — and  you  shall  see 
them  flee.  Leonidas  had  hard  fighting  all  day  yes- 
terday, and  conquered.  He  is  holding  his  own  to- 
day.   He  will  never  surrender." 

The  tide  of  battle  rolled  more  fiercely  than  be- 
fore. The  Immortal  Band  fought  well ;  many  fell, 
but  none  turned  to  flee.  Once  the  followers  of 
Leonidas  gave  way  and  fell  backward,  and  the  Per- 
sians poured  in  through  the  gaping  wall.  But  the 
disaster  was  only  a  feint ;  the  Spartans  waited  until 
goodly  numbers  had  swarmed  into  the  trap,  and 
then  sprang  forward  and  massacred  all,  hurling  the 
dead  and  dying  into  the  bog.  At  length,  the  Im- 
mortal Band  fell  back.  The  attack  was  ended  for 
that  day. 

"  He  has  conquered ! "  murmured  Hervina ; 
"  surely  the  Persians  can  make  no  fiercer  attempt." 

"  Let  us  hasten  by  the  road  they  have  shown  me, 
to  Leonidas,"  said  Ephialtes,  hurriedly. 

They  rode  on  for  some  distance  in  silence.  The 
road  made  a  long  detour,  and  at  last  Ephialtes 
halted.  "  Hervina,  if  we  tie  our  horses  in  the  goat- 
herd's hut  yonder  we  can  climb  down  into  this  ra- 
vine and  follow  it,  and  so  reach  Leonidas  more 
quickly  than  by  keeping  to  the  regular  road." 


44    HEROmES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGEND 

Witliin  tlie  hut  where  they  fastened  their  horses 
they  found  several  sheepskins. 

"  We  shall  attract  less  attention,  should  we  en- 
counter Persians,  and  also  be  better  able  to  clam- 
ber, if  we  change  our  court  clothing  for  these  sheep- 
skins," suggested  Ephialtes. 

Clothed  as  goatherds,  they  proceeded  on  their 
way.  They  reached  the  valley  in  safety  just  as  the 
moon  rose,  and  cautiously  went  forward  through 
the  twisted  olive  trees,  looking  for  some  path  by 
which  they  could  gain  the  Hot  Gates.  Suddenly, 
from  the  fantastic  shadows,  two  men  appeared  be- 
fore them,  while  a  small  squad  of  soldiers  followed 
— all  Persians.  One  of  the  men  held  a  headless 
spear,  to  which  was  aflxed  a  white  pennon;  the 
other  carried  upon  his  head  a  heavily  laden  golden 
vase. 

"  Who  are  ye? "  exclaimed  the  strangers  and 
Ephialtes  in  the  same  breath.  "I  am  a  simple 
goatherd,"  replied  Ephialtes. 

"And  I,"  said  the  foremost  stranger,  "am  Hy- 
darnes,  a  herald  sent  by  King  Xerxes  to  the  Spar- 
tan king." 

"  But  your  back  is  turned  to  his  fortress,"  said 
Ephialtes. 

"  Yea,"  replied  the  other ;  "  for  I  am  returning 
from  a  fruitless  quest.  My  king,  hopeless  of  storm- 
ing his  stronghold,  had  written  him  that  if  he  would 
permit  the  Persians  to  pass,  he  should  reign  unmo- 
lested in  Sparta  under  his  own  royal  protection." 

"  And  Leonidas  refused  this  offer?  " 


TWO  IMMORTAL  NAMES  45 

"  Yea,  and  this  goodly  golden  jar  of  jewels  which 
it  is  now  my  toilsome  lot  to  bear  back  again  over 
this  weary  way,"  said  the  second  Persian. 

"It  matters  little,"  added  the  first;  "we  shall 
starve  them  out  in  the  end — they  are  not  provi- 
sioned for  two  weeks  longer ;  but  it  chafes  his  royal 
highness  to  be  thus  stopped  upon  his  march." 

"  How  think  you  would  Xerxes  reward  that 
man,"  asked  Ephialtes,  "who  would  show  him  a 
speedy  manner  of  storming  the  citadel  of  Leonidas 
— show  him  another  pass  across  the  mountains 
higher  up,  dominating  their  stronghold,  and 
guardc'' '  y  but  a  handful  of  men?  " 

"  Know  you  of  such  a  pass?  "  asked  the  Persians 
eagerly,  while  Hervina,  uttering  a  cry  of  despair, 
clutched  her  brother's  arm. 

"  If  Xerxes  will  make  me  the  same  offer  which 
Leonidas  has  refused,  I  will  show  him  a  secret  path 
by  which  he  can  take  his  enemy." 

Hervina  threw  herself  upon  her  brother  in  an 
agony  of  grief  and  shame;  but  he  shook  her  off, 
saying : 

"My  own  welfare  and  fortune  are  more  to  me 
than  that  of  Leonidas.  Go  to  the  cave  of  the  goat- 
herd and  there  await  my  return !  "  Then,  follow- 
ing the  lead  of  the  Persians,  he  disappeared. 

Hervina  stood  thunderstruck.  Then  suddenly  a 
wild  hope  kindled  in  her  breast.  It  was  not  too 
late  to  warn  Leonidas,  not  too  late  for  him  to  re- 
treat. With  reckless  leaps  she  climbed  down  the 
steep  mountainside,  clinging  to  projecting  bits  of 


46    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

rock  where  even  a  goat  would  not  have  ventured. 
May  it  not  be  that  the  poet  ^schylus,  who  was  a 
rising  poet  at  the  time,  had  this  scene  in  his  mind, 
when  he  wrote  a  score  of  years  afterwards  the  lines : 

* '  Ye  rising  hills  whose  reverenced  heads 
Majestic  wave  their  awe-commanding  shades, 
What  woes  our  shudd'ring  souls  await, 

Or  flying  on  the  wings  of  fear. 

In  some  cavern  dark  and  drear, 
Deep  shall  we  plunge  and  hide  us  from  our  fate. 
Oh  that  I  could  as  smoke  arise. 

That  rolls  its  black  wreaths  through  the  air ; 
Mix  with  the  clouds  that  o'er  the  skies 

Show  their  light  forms  and  disappear, 
Or  like  the  dust  be  tossed 
By  every  sportive  wind  till  all  be  lost ! 
They  come,  they  come',  the  haughty  foes ! 
These  are  but  preludes  to  my  woes. 
Look  down,  thou  Sovereign  of  the  world,  and  save!  " 

She  remembered  joyfully  how  she  had  often  out- 
stripped the  girls  at  Sparta  in  the  footraces,  and 
her  training  stood  her  in  good  stead  now.  She 
reached  Leonidas  just  as  the  Persians  set  out  on 
their  march  for  the  upper  pass. 

"  It  is  certain  death  to  remain,"  said  the  Spartan 
king  as  he  looked  at  the  frowning  cliff  soon  to  be 
held  by  the  foe.  "  I  order  the  seven  thousand  sent 
me  by  the  allied  Greeks  to  retire,  bearing  little 
Hervina  with  them !  " 

"  Come,  too,"  pleaded  Hervina. 

"  Nay,  little  one,  I  have  an  example  to  set  to 


TWO  IMMORTAL  NAMES  47 

Greece — a  lesson  to  teach  the  Persians.  They  must 
know  that  Leonidas  and  his  three  hundred  were  not 
afraid  to  face  three  millions  and  certain  death. 
The  post  will  be  stormed,  but  it  will  not  be  de- 
serted." 

On  the  next  day  Leonidas  and  his  brave  Spartans 
fell.  But  the  example  and  the  lesson  were  not 
wanting.  Xerxes  learned  for  the  first  time  of  what 
stuff  patriots  were  made,  and  the  knowledge  un- 
nerved his  arm  for  further  effort.  The  death  of 
their  countrymen  fired  the  other  Greeks  to  emulate 
their  valor  and  avenge  their  massacre.  At  Salamis, 
Themistocles  dealt  a  death-blow  to  the  Persian 
navy,  and  Xerxes  with  his  shattered  army  fled, 
while  the  defeat  of  his  general  Mardonius  at  the 
battle  of  Platasa  closed  the  war. 

Ephialtes  died  a  miserable  outcast  on  Persian 
soil,  realizing  at  last,  let  us  trust,  the  meaning  of 
the  ambiguous  oracle,  and  that  while  the  name  of 
Leonidas  would  be  rendered  immortal  by  his  bra- 
very and  willing  death  for  his  country,  his  own 
would  be  handed  down  to  endless  ignominy  and  dis- 
grace. 


BOADICEA 

William  Cowper 

When  the  Britisli  warrior  queen, 
Bleeding  from  the  Koman  rods, 

Sought,  with  an  indignant  mien, 
Counsel  of  her  country's  gods, 

Sage  beneath  the  spreading  oak 
Sat  the  Druid,  hoary  chief; 

Every  burning  word  he  spoke 
Full  of  rage,  and  full  of  grief. 

Princess !  if  our  aged  eyes 

Weep  upon  thy  matchless  wrongs, 
'Tis  because  resentment  ties 

All  the  terrors  of  our  tongues. 

Kome  shall  perish — ^write  that  word 
In  the  blood  that  she  has  spilt ; 

Perish,  hopeless  and  abhorr'd, 
Deep  in  ruin  as  in  guilt. 

Rome,  for  empire  far  renown'd, 
Tramples  on  a  thousand  states ; 

Soon  her  pride  shall  kiss  the  ground- 
Hark  !  the  Gaul  is  at  her  gates ! 
48 


BOADICEA  49 

Other  Romans  shall  arise, 

Heedless  of  a  soldier's  name ; 
Sounds,  not  arms,  shall  win  the  prize, 

Harmony  the  path  to  fame. 

Then  the  progeny  that  springs 

From  the  forests  of  our  land, 
Arm'd  with  thunder,  clad  with  wings, 

Shall  a  wider  world  command. 

Regions  Caesar  never  knew 

Thy  posterity  shall  sway; 
Where  his  eagles  never  flew, 

None  invincible  as  they. 

Such  the  bard's  prophetic  words. 

Pregnant  with  celestial  fire, 
Bending  as  he  swept  the  chords 

Of  his  sweet  but  awful  lyre. 

She,  with  all  a  monarch's  pride. 

Felt  them  in  her  bosom  glow : 
Rush'd  to  battle,  fought,  and  died ; 

Dying  hurl'd  them  at  the  foe. 

Ruffians,  pitiless  as  proud. 
Heaven  awards  the  vengeance  due ; 

Empire  is  on  us  bestow'd, 
Shame  and  ruin  wait  for  you. 


GOLDEN  APPLES  AND  EOSES  BED 

William  Canton 

In  the  cruel  days  of  old,  when  Diocletian  was  the 
master  of  the  world,  and  the  believers  in  the  Cross 
were  maimed,  and  tortured  with  fire,  and  torn  with 
iron  hooks,  and  cast  to  the  lions,  and  beheaded  with 
the  sword,  Dorothea,  a  beautiful  maiden  of  Cses- 
area,  was  brought  before  Sapricius,  the  governor 
of  Cappadocia,  and  commanded  to  forsake  the  Lord 
Christ  and  offer  incense  to  the  images  of  the  false 
gods. 

Though  she  was  so  young  and  so  fair  and  tender, 
she  stood  umnoved  by  threats  and  entreaties,  and 
when,  with  little  pity  on  her  youth  and  loveliness, 
Sapricius  menaced  her  with  the  torment  of  the  iron 
bed  over  a  slow  fire,  she  replied :  "  Do  with  me  as 
you  will.  No  pain  shall  I  fear,  so  firm  is  my  trust 
in  Him  for  whom  I  am  ready  to  die." 

"Who,  then,  is  this  that  has  won  thy  love?" 
asked  the  Governor. 

"  It  is  Christ  Jesus,  the  Son  of  God.  Slay  me, 
and  I  shall  but  the  sooner  be  with  Him  in  His 
Paradise,  where  there  is  no  more  pain,  neither  sor- 
row, but  the  tears  are  wiped  from  all  eyes,  and  the 
roses  are  in  bloom  alway,  and  forever  the  fruit  of 
Joy  is  on  the  trees." 

50 


GOLDEN  APPLES  AND  ROSES  RED       51 

"  Thy  words  are  but  the  babbling  of  madness," 
said  the  Governor  angrily. 

"  I  am  not  nmd,  most  noble  Sapricius." 

"  Here,  then,  is  the  incense ;  sacrifice,  and  save 
thy  life." 

'"  I  will  not  sacrifice,"  replied  Dorothea. 

"  Then  shalt  thou  die,"  said  Sapricius ;  and  he 
bade  the  doomsman  take  her  to  the  place  of  execu- 
tion and  strike  off  her  head. 

Now  as  she  was  being  led  away  from  the  judg- 
ment-seat, a  gay  young  advocate  named  Theophilus 
said  to  her  jestingly :  "  Farewell,  sweet  Dorothea  ; 
when  thou  hast  joined  thy  lover,  wilt  thou  not  send 
me  some  of  the  fruit  and  roses  of  his  Paradise?  " 

Looking  gravely  and  gently  at  him,  Dorothea  an- 
swered, "  I  will  send  some." 

Whereupon  Theophilus  laughed  merrily,  and 
went  his  way  homeward. 

At  the  place  of  execution,  Dorothea  begged  the 
doomsman  to  tarry  a  little,  and  kneeling  by  the 
block,  she  raised  her  hands  to  heaven  and  prayed 
earnestly.  At  that  moment  a  fair  child  stood  be- 
side her  holding  in  his  hand  a  basket  containing 
three  golden  apples  and  three  red  roses. 

"  Take  these  to  Theophilus,  I  pray  thee,"  she  said 
to  the  child,  "  and  tell  him  Dorothea  awaits  him  in 
the  Paradise  whence  they  came." 

Then  she  bowed  her  head,  and  the  sword  of  the 
doomsman  fell. 

Mark  now  what  follows. 

Theophilus,  who  had  reached  home,  was  still  tell- 


52    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

ing  of  what  had  happened  and  merrily  repeating 
his  jest  about  the  fruit  and  flowers  of  Paradise, 
when  suddenly,  while  he  was  speaking,  the  child 
appeared  before  him  with  the  apples  and  the  roses. 
"  Dorothea,"  he  said,  "  has  sent  me  to  thee  with 
these,  and  she  awaits  thee  in  the  garden."  And 
straightway  the  child  vanished. 

The  fragrance  of  those  heavenly  roses  filled 
Theophilus  with  a  strange  pity  and  gladness ;  and, 
eating  of  the  fruit  of  the  Angels,  he  felt  his  heart 
made  new  within  him,  so  that  he,  also,  became  a 
servant  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  suffered  death  for 
His  name,  and  thus  attained  to  the  celestial  garden. 

Centuries  after  her  martyrdom,  the  body  of 
Dorothea  was  laid  in  a  bronze  shrine  richly  inlaid 
with  gold  and  jewels  in  the  church  built  in  her 
honor  beyond  Tiber,  in  the  seven-hilled  city  of 
Rome ;  and  every  seven  years  the  shrine  was  opened 
that  the  faithful  might  gaze  on  the  maiden  martyr 
of  Csesarea. 


THE   SHEPHERD  GIRL  OF  NANTERRE 

Charlotte  M.  Yonge 

FoUE  hundred  years  of  the  Roman  dominion  had 
entirely  tamed  the  once  wild  and  independent 
Gauls.  Everywhere,  except  in  the  moorlands  of 
Brittany,  they  had  become  as  much  like  Romans 
themselves  as  they  could  accomplish;  they  had 
Latin  names,  spoke  the  Latin  tongue,  all  their  per- 
sonages of  higher  rank  were  enrolled  as  Roman 
citizens,  their  chief  cities  were  colonies  where  the 
laws  were  administered  by  magistrates  in  the 
Roman  fashion,  and  the  houses,  dress  and  amuse- 
ments were  the  same  as  those  of  Italy.  The  greater 
part  of  the  towns  had  been  converted  to  Christian- 
ity, though  some  paganism  still  lurked  in  the  more 
remote  villages  and  mountainous  districts. 

It  was  upon  these  civilized  Gauls  that  the  terrible 
attacks  came  from  the  wild  nations  who  poured  out 
of  the  center  and  east  of  Europe.  The  Franks  came 
over  the  Rhine  and  its  dependent  rivers,  and  made 
furious  attacks  upon  the  peaceful  plains,  where  the 
Gauls  had  long  lived  in  security,  and  reports  were 
everywhere  heard  of  villages  harried  by  wild  horse- 
men, with  short  double-headed  battle-axes  and  a 
horrible  short  pike,  covered  with  iron  and  with  sev- 

53 


54    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

eral  large  hooks,  like  a  gigantic  artificial  minnow, 
and  like  it  fastened  to  a  long  rope,  so  that  the  prey 
which  it  had  grappled  might  be  pulled  up  to  the 
owner.  Walled  cities  usually  stopped  them,  but 
every  farm  or  villa  outside  was  stripped  of  its  valu- 
ables, set  on  fire,  the  cattle  driven  off,  and  the  more 
healthy  inhabitants  seized  for  slaves. 

It  was  during  this  state  of  things  that  a  girl  was 
born  to  a  wealthy  peasant  at  the  village  now  called 
Nanterre,  about  two  miles  from  Lutetia,  which  was 
already  a  prosperous  city,  though  not  as  yet  so  en- 
tirely the  capital  as  it  was  destined  to  become  un- 
der the  name  of  Paris.  She  was  christened  by  an 
old  Gallic  name,  probably  Gwenfrewi,  or  AVhite 
Stream — in  Latin  Genovefa — but  she  is  best  known 
by  the  late  French  form  of  Genevieve. 

When  she  was  about  seven  years  old,  two  cele- 
brated bishops  passed  through  the  village,  Ger- 
manus  of  Auxerre  and  Lupus  of  Troyes,  who  had 
been  invited  to  Britain  to  dispute  the  false  doctrine 
of  Pelagius.  All  the  inhabitants  ilocked  into  the 
church  to  see  them,  pray  with  them  and  receive 
their  blessing;  and  here  the  sweet  childish  devo^ 
tion  of  Genevieve  so  struck  Germanus,  that  he 
called  her  to  him,  talked  to  her,  made  her  sit  be- 
side him  at  the  feast,  gave  her  his  especial  blessing 
and  presented  her  with  a  copper  medal  with  a  cross 
engraven  upon  it.  From  that  time  the  little  maiden 
always  deemed  herself  especially  consecrated  to 
the  service  of  Heaven,  but  she  still  remained  at 
home,  daily  keeping  her  father's  sheep,  and  spin- 


THE  SHEPHEKD  GIRL  OF  NANTERRE  55 

ning  their  wool  as  she  sat  under  the  trees  watch- 
ing them,  but  always  with  a  heart  full  of  prayer. 

After  this  St.  Germanus  proceeded  to  Britain 
and  there  encouraged  his  converts  to  meet  the 
heathen  Picts  at  Maes  Gannon  in  Flintshire,  where 
the  exulting  shout  of  the  white-robed  catechumens 
turned  to  flight  the  wild  superstitious  savages  of 
the  north,  and  the  Hallelujah  victory  was  gained 
without  a  drop  of  bloodshed.  He  never  lost  sight 
of  Genevieve,  the  little  maid  whom  he  had  so  early 
distinguished  for  her  piety. 

After  she  lost  her  parents  she  went  to  live  with 
her  godmother,  and  continued  the  same  simple  hab- 
its, leading  a  life  of  sincere  devotion  and  strict  self- 
denial,  constant  prayer,  and  much  charity  to  her 
poorer  neighbors. 

In  the  year  451  the  whole  of  Gaul  was  in  the 
most  dreadful  state  of  terror  at  the  advance  of 
Attila,  the  savage  chief  of  the  Huns,  who  came 
from  the  banks  of  the  Danube  with  a  host  of  sav- 
ages of  hideous  features,  scarred  and  disfigured  to 
render  them  more  frightful.  The  old  enemies,  the 
Goths  and  the  Franks,  seemed  like  friends  com- 
pared with  these  formidable  beings,  whose  cruelties 
were  said  to  be  intolerable,  and  of  whom  every  ex- 
aggerated story  was  told  that  could  add  to  the  hor- 
rors of  the  miserable  people  who  lay  in  their  path. 

Tidings  came  that  this  "  Scourge  of  God,"  as 
Attila  called  himself,  had  passed  the  Rhine,  des- 
troyed Tongres  and  Metz,  and  was  in  full  march 
for  Paris.    The  whole  country  was  in  the  utmost 


56    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

terror.  Every  one  seized  his  most  valuable  posses- 
sions, and  would  have  fled;  but  Genevieve  placed 
herself  on  the  only  bridge  across  the  Seine,  and 
argued  with  the  people,  assuring  them,  in  a  strain 
that  was  afterwards  thought  of  as  prophetic,  that, 
if  they  would  pray,  repent,  and  defend  instead  of 
abandoning  their  homes,  God  would  protect  them. 
They  were  at  first  almost  ready  to  stone  her  for 
thus  withstanding  their  panic;  but  just  then  a 
priest  arrived  from  Auxerre,  with  a  present  for 
Genevieve  from  St.  Germanus,  and  they  were  thus 
reminded  of  the  high  estimation  in  which  he  held 
her.  They  became  ashamed  of  their  violence,  and 
she  led  them  back  to  pray  and  to  arm  themselves. 
In  a  few  days  they  heard  that  Attila  had  paused 
to  besiege  Orleans,  and  that  Aetius,  the  Roman 
general,  hurrying  from  Italy,  had  united  his  troops 
with  those  of  the  Goths  and  Franks,  and  given  At- 
tila so  terrible  a  defeat  at  Chalons  that  the  Huns 
were  fairly  driven  out  of  Gaul.  And  here  it  must 
be  mentioned  that  when  the  next  year,  452,  Attila 
with  his  murderous  host  came  down  into  Italy,  and 
after  horrible  devastation  of  all  the  northern  prov- 
inces, came  to  the  gates  of  Rome,  no  one  dared  to 
meet  him  but  one  venerable  Bishop,  Leo,  the  Pope, 
who,  when  his  flock  were  in  transports  of  despair, 
went  forth,  only  accompanied  by  one  magistrate,  to 
meet  the  invader  and  endeavor  to  turn  his  wrath 
aside.  The  savage  Huns  were  struck  with  awe  by 
the  fearless  majesty  of  the  unarmed  old  man.  They 
conducted  him  safely  to  Attila,  who  listened  to  him 


THE  SHEPHEKD  GIRL  OF  NANTERRE    57 

with  respect,  and  promised  not  to  lead  his  people 
into  Rome,  provided  a  tribute  should  be  paid  to 
him.  He  then  retreated,  and,  to  the  joy  of  all 
Europe,  died  on  his  way  back  to  his  native  domin- 
ions. 

But  with  the  Huns  the  danger  and  suffering  of 
Europe  did  not  end.  The  happy  state  described 
in  the  Prophets  as  "  dwelling  safely,  with  none  to 
make  them  afraid  "  was  utterly  unknown  in  Europe 
throughout  the  long  break-up  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire; and  in  a  few  more  years  the  Franks  were 
overrunning  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  and  actually 
venturing  to  lay  siege  to  the  Roman  walls  of  Paris 
itself. 

The  fortifications  were  strong  enough,  but  hunger 
began  to  do  the  w^ork  of  the  besiegers,  and  the  garri- 
son, unwarlike  and  untrained,  began  to  despair. 
But  Genevieve's  courage  and  trust  never  failed; 
and  finding  no  warriors  willing  to  run  the  risk  of 
going  beyond  the  walls  to  obtain  food  for  the 
women  and  children  who  were  perishing  around 
them,  this  brave  shepherdess  embarked  alone  in  a 
little  boat,  and  guiding  it  down  the  stream,  landed 
beyond  the  Frankish  camp,  and  repairing  to  the 
different  Gallic  cities,  she  implored  them  to  send 
succor  to  their  famished  brethren.  She  obtained 
complete  success.  Probably  the  Franks  had  no 
means  of  obstructing  the  passage  of  the  river,  so 
that  a  convoy  of  boats  could  easily  penetrate  into 
the  town,  and  at  any  rate  they  looked  upon  Gene- 
vieve as  something  sacred  and  inspired  whom  they 


68    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

durst  not  touch ;  probably  as  one  of  tbe  battle-maids 
in  whom  their  own  myths  taught  them  to  believe. 

But  a  city  where  all  the  valor  resided  in  one 
woman  could  not  long  hold  out,  and  in  another  in- 
road, when  Genevieve  was  absent,  Paris  was  ac- 
tually seized  by  the  Franks.  Their  leader,  Hilperik, 
was  absolutely  afraid  of  what  the  mysteriously 
brave  maiden  might  do  to  him,  and  commanded 
the  gates  of  the  city  to  be  carefully  guarded  lest 
she  should  enter;  but  Genevieve  learnt  that  some 
of  the  chief  citizens  were  imprisoned,  and  that 
Hilperik  intended  their  death,  and  nothing  could 
withhold  her  from  making  an  effort  in  their  behalf. 

The  Franks  had  made  up  their  minds  to  settle, 
and  not  to  destroy.  They  were  not  burning  and 
slaying  indiscriminately,  but  while  despising  the 
Romans,  as  they  called  the  Gauls,  for  their  coward- 
ice, they  were  in  awe  of  their  superior  civilization 
and  knowledge  of  arts.  The  country  people  had 
free  access  to  the  city,  and  Genevieve,  in  her  homely 
gown  and  veil,  passed  by  Hilperik's  guards  without 
being  suspected  of  being  more  than  any  ordinary 
Gaulish  village  maid ;  and  thus  she  fearlessly  made 
her  way,  even  to  the  old  Roman  halls  where  the 
long-haired  Hilperik  was  holding  his  wild  carousal. 

Would  that  we  knew  more  of  that  interview, — 
one  of  the  most  striking  that  ever  took  place !  We 
can  only  picture  to  ourselves  the  Roman  tesselated 
pavement  bestrewn  with  wine,  bones,  and  frag- 
ments of  the  bnrbarous  revelry.  There  were  un- 
tamed Franks,  their  sunburnt  hair  tied  up  in  a  Imot 


St.  Genevievk  as  a  Child  in  Prayer. 
From  Palntbifi  by  /'«/'('.<  de  Chava7ines. 


THE  SHEPHERD  GIRL  OF  NANTERRE    59 

at  the  top  of  their  heads,  and  falling  down  like  a 
horse's  tail,  their  faces  close  shaven,  except  two 
huge  moustaches,  and  dressed  in  tight  leather  gar- 
ments, with  swords  at  their  wide  belts.  Some  slept, 
some  feasted,  some  greased  their  long  locks,  some 
shouted  out  their  favorite  war-songs  around  the 
table,  which  was  covered  with  the  spoils  of 
churches,  and  at  their  head  sat  the  wild,  long-haired 
chieftain,  who  was  a  few  years  later  driven  away 
by  his  own  followers  for  his  excesses, — the  whole 
scene  was  all  that  was  abhorrent  to  a  pure,  devout, 
and  faithful  nature ;  most  full  of  terror  to  a  woman. 
Yet  there,  in  her  strength,  stood  the  peasant 
maiden,  her  heart  full  of  trust  and  pity,  her  looks 
full  of  the  power  that  is  given  by  fearlessness  of 
them  that  can  kill  the  body. 

What  she  said  we  do  not  know, — we  only  know 
that  the  barbarous  Hilperik  was  overawed;  he 
trembled  before  the  expostulations  of  the  brave 
woman,  and  granted  all  she  asked, — the  safety  of 
his  prisoners,  and  mercy  to  the  terrified  inhabitants. 
No  wonder  that  the  people  of  Paris  have  ever  since 
looked  back  to  Genevieve  as  their  protectress,  and 
that  in  after  ages  she  has  grown  to  be  the  patron 
saint  of  the  city. 

She  lived  to  see  the  son  of  Hilperik,  Chlodweh, 
or,  as  he  was  more  commonly  called,  Clovis,  marry 
a  Christian  wife,  Clotilda,  and  after  a  time  become 
a  Christian.  She  saw  the  foundation  of  the  cathe- 
dral of  Notre  Dame,  and  of  the  two  famous 
churches  of  St.  Denys  and  of  St.  Martin  of  Tours, 


60    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

and  gave  her  full  share  to  the  first  efforts  for  bring- 
ing the  rude  and  bloodthirsty  conquerors  to  some 
knowledge  of  Christian  faith,  mercy  and  purity. 
After  a  life  of  constant  prayer  and  charity  she  died, 
three  months  after  King  Clovis,  in  the  year  512,  the 
eighty-ninth  year  of  her  age. 


MULAN,  THE  MAIDEN  CHIEF 

A  Chinese  Ballad 

"  Say,  maiden  at  your  spinning-wheel, 
Why  heave  that  deep-drawn  sigh? 
Is't  fear,  perchance,  or  love  you  feel? 
Pray  tell — oh,  tell  me  why !  " 

"  Nor  fear  nor  love  has  moved  my  soul — 
Away  oci^Ii  idle  thought! 
A  warrior's  glory  is  the  goal 
By  my  ambition  sought. 

"  My  father's  cherished  life  to  save, 
My  country  to  redeem, 
The  dangers  of  the  field  I'll  brave : 
I  am  not  what  I  seem. 

"  No  son  has  he  his  troop  to  lead, 
No  brother  dear  have  I ; 
So  I  must  mount  my  father's  steed, 
And  to  the  battle  hie." 

At  dawn  of  day  she  quits  her  door, 

At  evening  rests  her  head 
Where  loud  the  mountain  torrents  roar 

And  mail-clad  soldiers  tread. 
61 


62    HEEOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

The  northern  plains  are  gained  at  last, 
The  mountains  sink  from  view ; 

The  sun  shines  cold,  and  the  wintry  blast 
It  pierces  through  and  through. 

A  thousand  foes  around  her  fall, 
And  red  blood  stains  the  ground ; 

But  Mulan,  who  survives  it  all, 
Eeturns  with  glory  crowned. 

Before  the  throne  they  bend  the  knee 

In  the  palace  of  Changan, 
Full  many  a  knight  of  high  degree, 

But  the  bravest  is  Mulan. 

"  Nay,  prince,"  she  cries,  "  my  duty's  done, 
No  guerdon  I  desire ; 
But  let  me  to  my  home  begone. 
To  cheer  my  aged  sire." 

She  nears  the  door  of  her  father's  home, 
A  chief  with  trumpet's  blare ; 

But  when  she  doffs  her  waving  plume, 
She  stands  a  maiden  fair. 


GODIVA 

Lord  Tennyson 

/  waited  for  the  train  at  Coventry; 
I  hung  with  grooms  and  porters  on  the  bridge, 
To  watch  the  three  tall  spires;  and  there  I  shaped 
The  city's  ancient  legend  into  tliAs: — 

Not  only  we,  the  latest  seed  of  Time, 
New  men,  that  in  the  flying  of  a  wheel 
Cry  down  the  past,  not  only  we,  that  prate 
Of  rights  and  wrongs,  have  loved  the  people  well. 
And  loathed  to  see  them  overtax'd ;  but  she 
Did  more,  and  underwent,  and  overcame. 
The  woman  of  a  thousand  summers  back, 
Godiva,  wife  to  that  grim  Earl,  who  ruled 
In  Coventry ;  for  when  he  laid  a  tax 
Upon  his  town,  and  all  the  mothers  brought 
Their    children,    clamoring,    "If    we    pay,    we 

starve ! " 
She  sought  her  lord,  and  found  him,  where  he 

strode 
About  the  hall,  among  his  dogs,  alone, 
His  beard  a  foot  before  him,  and  his  hair 
A  yard  behind.    She  told  him  of  their  tears. 
And  pray'd  him,  "  If  they  pay  this  tax,  they 

starve." 
Whereat  he  stared,  replying,  half-amazed, 
"  You  would  not  let  your  little  finger  ache 

63 


64    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

For  sucli  as  these?  " — "  But  I  would  die,"  said 

she. 
He  laugh'd,  and  swore  by  Peter  and  by  Paul, 
Then  filip'd  at  the  diamond  in  her  ear : 
"  Oh,  ay,  ay,  ay,  you  talk !  " — "  Alas !  "  she  said, 
"  But  prove  me  what  it  is  I  would  not  do." 
And  from  a  heart  as  rough  as  Esau's  hand, 
He  answer'd,  "  Ride  you  naked  thro'  the  town. 
And  I  repeal  it ;  "  and  nodding,  as  in  scorn. 
He  parted,  with  great  strides  among  his  dogs. 

So  left  alone,  the  passions  of  her  mind, 
As  winds  from  all  the  compass  shift  and  blow, 
Made  war  upon  each  other  for  an  hour. 
Till  pity  won.    She  sent  a  herald  forth. 
And  bade  him  cry,  with  sound  of  trumpet,  all 
The  hard  condition,  but  that  she  would  loose 
The  people ;  therefore,  as  they  loved  her  well. 
From  then  till  noon  no  foot  should  pace  the 

street, 
No  eye  look  down,  she  passing,  but  that  all 
Should   keep   within,   door   shut,   and   window 

barr'd. 
Then  fled  she  to  her  inmost  bower,  and  there 
Unclasp'd  the  wedded  eagles  of  her  belt. 
The  grim  Earl's  gift ;  but  ever  at  a  breath 
She  linger'd,  looking  like  a  summer  moon 
Half -dipt  in  cloud.    Anon  she  shook  her  head. 
And  shower'd  the  rippled  ringlets  to  her  knee; 
Unclad  herself  in  haste ;  adown  the  stair 
Stole  on ;  and  like  a  creeping  sunbeam  slid 
From  pillar  unto  pillar,  until  she  reach'd 


GODIYA  65 

The  gateway ;  there  she  found  her  palfrey  trapt 
In  purple  blazon'd  with  armorial  gold. 

Then  she  rode  forth,  clothed  on  with  chastity. 
The  deep  air  listened  round  her  as  she  rode, 
And  all  the  low  wind  hardly  breathed  for  fear. 
The  little  wide-mouth"d  heads  upon  the  spout 
Had  cunning  eyes  to  see ;  the  barking  cur 
Made  her  cheek  flame ;  her  palfrey's  footfall  shot 
Light  horrors  thro'  her  pulses ;  the  blind  walls 
Were  full  of  chinks  and  holes ;  and  overhead 
Fantastic  gables,  crowding,  stared ;  but  she 
Not  less  thro'  all  bore  up,  till,  last,  she  saw 
The  white-flower'd  elder-thicket  from  the  field 
Gleam  thro'  the  Gothic  archway  in  the  wall. 

Then  she  rode  back,  clothed  on  with  chastity. 
And  one  low  churl,  compact  of  thankless  earth. 
The  fatal  byword  of  all  years  to  come, 
Boring  a  little  auger-hole  in  fear, 
Peep'd — but  his  eyes,  before  they  had  their  will. 
Were  shrivell'd  into  darkness  in  his  head. 
And  dropt  before  him.    So  the  Powers,  who  wait 
On  noble  deeds,  cancell'd  a  sense  misused ; 
And  she,  that  knew  not,  pass'd ;  and  all  at  once, 
With  twelve  great  shocks  of  sound,  the  shameless 

noon 
Was   clash'd   and   hammer'd   from   a   hundred 

towers, 
One  after  one ;  but  even  then  she  gain'd 
Her  bower,  whence  reissuing,  robed  and  crown'd, 
To  meet  her  lord,  she  took  the  tax  away 
And  built  herself  an  everlasting  name. 


THE  ENGLISH  MERCHANT  AND  THE 
SAEACEN  LADY 

Grace  Greenwood 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  the  First,  of  England, 
called  Beauclerc,  or  Fine  Scholar  (for  he  was  ac- 
tually so  learned  that  he  could  write  his  own  name 
— a  great  attainment  for  a  king,  in  those  days), 
there  lived  in  London  a  rich  young  merchant, 
named  Gilbert  a  Becket. 

In  that  simple  old  time,  the  wonders  of  science 
and  art,  among  which  we  walk  and  live  just  as  if 
they  had  always  been — like  the  trees,  the  flowers, 
the  sky,  and  the  stars — were  never  thought  of,  or 
dreamed  of,  except  by  the  great  poets,  who,  maybe, 
with  their  prophet-eyes,  looked  away  into  the  far 
future,  and  saw  them  looming  up  above  the  coming 
ages,  like  mountain-peaks  in  the  distance  of  a  land- 
scape. Then  the  great  oceans  could  heave  and  swell 
and  roar  and  rage  and  toss  their  mad  frothing 
waves  up  at  the  sky,  as  if  to  defy  the  great  God; 
and  then,  obedient  to  his  will,  grow  quiet  and 
smooth  again — ^year  after  year,  without  one  single 
ship  venturing  over  their  vast  expanse,  to  be  made 
afraid  by  their  violence  or  flattered  by  their  calm, 
— and  all  the  commerce  of  the  world  was  scarcely 
equal  to  that  of  the  smallest  and  poorest  kingdoms 
of  our  times.     Then  going  to  sea  was  considered 

66 


THE  ENGLISH  MERCHANT  67 

more  perilous  than  going  into  battle;  voyagers 
never  failed  to  make  their  wills,  and  set  their 
worldly  affairs  in  order,  before  they  weighed 
anchor  and  set  sail  for  foreign  parts. 

But  to  return  to  Gilbert  k  Becket.  He  was 
thought  a  brave  and  adventurous  man,  when  he  left 
his  comfortable  English  home,  and  sailed  for  the 
Holy  Land,  to  trade  with  the  rich  Syrians  for 
satins,  velvet,  and  gems,  which  he  meant  to  bring 
to  England  and  sell  at  a  great  profit.  He  probably 
calculated  by  this  speculation  to  double  his  for- 
tune, and  perhaps  be  able  to  buy  a  title,  and  so 
become  one  of  the  nobles  of  the  land,  and  live  in  a 
brave  castle,  where  he  would  receive  the  king  and 
court,  and  entertain  them  in  princely  style.  But, 
alas !  titles  and  royal  guests  were  not  for  him,  and 
all  the  castle  he  was  ever  to  lay  claim  to,  was  such 
"  a  castle  in  the  air  "  as  any  one  of  us  may  build. 
He  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Turks,  robbed  of  his 
ship,  sold  as  a  slave,  fettered,  and  set  at  work  in 
the  palace  gardens  of  Mahmoud,  a  terrible,  fierce- 
eyed,  black-bearded,  big-turbaned  Saracen  chief. 

It  was  a  very  hard  fortune,  that  of  poor  Gilbert. 
He  was  obliged  to  toil  from  morning  till  night, 
digging  and  spading,  planting  and  weeding ;  and  all 
the  while,  with  the  disadvantage  of  not  knowing 
much  about  the  gardening  business,  and  of  having 
a  hea^7■  chain  dragging  and  clanking  at  his  ankles. 
You  may  depend  that  he  felt  if  he  could  get  safe 
back  to  England  he  would  never  more  aspire  to 
castles  and  titles,  nor  trouble  himself  if  the  king 


68    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

and  the  court  never  should  eat  a  good  dinner,  or 
shake  their  heels  at  a  ball  again. 

But  often  out  of  our  greatest  misfortune  come 
our  best  good  and  happiness;  and  hope  and  joy 
often  follow  times  of  fear  and  sorrow,  as  beautiful 
rainbows  are  made  out  of  storms  that  have  just 
darkened  the  sky,  and  beaten  down  the  floAvers. 
One  evening,  just  as  the  muezzin  from  the  minarets 
was  calling  all  pious  Mussulmans  to  prayers,  Gil- 
bert k  Becket  stood  leaning  against  a  palm-tree, 
resting  a  little  from  his  daily  toil,  and  thinking 
longingly  of  his  country  and  home.  Just  then,  a 
noble  young  Saracen  lady,  of  marvelous  beauty, 
called  Zarina,  chanced  that  way,  on  her  evening 
walk,  and  was  very  much  struck  by  the  appearance 
of  the  stranger.  In  truth,  as  Gilbert  stood  there, 
leaning  so  gracefully  against  the  palm,  with  his 
pale  face  cast  down,  and  his  soft  auburn  hair,  half 
veiling  his  sad  eyes,  to  say  nothing  of  his  long 
golden  eyelashes  and  his  curling,  silken  moustache, 
he  was  a  very  handsome  and  interesting  young 
man ;  and,  in  spite  of  that  coarse  gardener's  dress, 
and  that  slavish  chain,  looked  as  proud  and  noble 
as  a  prince. 

Zarina  thought  so,  and,  though  very  modest  and 
timid,  drew  near  to  speak  a  few  kind  words  to  him. 
He  looked  up,  at  the  sound  of  her  light  step,  and, 
for  the  first  time  in  many  months,  he  smiled,  glad- 
dened by  the  sight  of  her  beautiful,  innocent  face. 

They  soon  grew  to  be  excellent  friends  and  man- 
aged to  meet  often,  and  have  long  walks  and  talks 


THE  ENGLISH  MEKCHANT  69 

in  the  sliaded  alleys  and  bowers  of  Mahmoud's  gar- 
dens. They  first  talked  of  the  birds  and  flowers; 
then  of  the  stars  and  the  moonlight;  then  of  love, 
and  then  of  God.  Gilbert  told  Zarina  of  the  Chris- 
tian's blessed  faith,  and  related  all  the  beautiful 
and  marvelous  stories  of  our  Lord  Jesus;  and 
Zarina  wondered,  and  wept,  and  believed. 

Gilbert  had  learned  the  Saracen  language  and 
spoke  it  very  well ;  but  Zarina  did  not  understand 
the  English  at  all.  The  first  word  of  it  that  ever 
she  spoke  was  " yes"  which  Gilbert  taught  her  to 
say  when  he  asked  her  if  she  would  be  his  wife, 
whenever  he  could  gain  his  freedom.  But  month 
after  month — a  whole  year — went  by,  and  Gilbert 
was  still  a  captive. 

One  day,  when  Zarina  met  her  lover  in  a  shady 
garden- walk,  she  said,  in  a  low,  gentle  voice,  and 
with  her  tender  eyes  cast  down,  "  I  am  a  Christian 
now,  dear  Gilbert; — I  pray  to  thy  God  morning 
and  night.  Thou  knowest  I  am  an  orphan.  I  love 
no  one  in  all  the  world  but  thee ;  then  why  should 
I  stay  here?  Why  shouldst  thou  linger  longer  in 
bondage?  Let  us  both  fly  to  England.  God  will 
gTiide  us  safely  over  the  wide,  dark  waters ;  for  we 
are  Christians,  and  need  not  fear  anything.  I  will 
meet  thee  to-night,  on  the  seashore,  and  bring  gold 
and  jewels  enough  to  purchase  a  vessel  and  hire  a 
skilful  crew.  And  when,  O  my  Gilbert,  we  are 
afloat  on  the  broad  blue  sea,  sailing  toward  thy 
home,  thou  wilt  bless  me,  and  love  me;  wilt  thou 
not?  " 


70    HEEOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

The  mercliant  kissed  tlie  maiden's  hand,  and 
promised  tx)  meet  her  on  the  strand,  at  the  ap- 
pointed hour.  And  he  did  not  fail;  but  long  he 
walked  the  lonely  shore,  and  no  light-footed  Zarina 
came  flitting  through  the  deep  night-shadows,  and 
stealing  to  his  side.  North,  south,  east  and  west  he 
looked;  but  all  in  vain.  The  night  was  clear,  the 
winds  whispered  low,  the  little  waves  slid  up  the 
shining  shore,  and  seemed  to  invite  him  to  sail  away 
over  them,  to  the  great  sea  beyond;  but  the  stars 
overhead  twinkled  so  merrily,  and  winked  so  know- 
ingly, that  he  almost  fancied  they  had  betrayed  the 
story  of  his  and  Zarina's  love  and  intended  flight. 

At  length  he  heard  a  quick,  light  step,  and  sprang 
forward  with  a  joyful  cry.  Alas !  it  was  not  Zarina, 
but  her  faithful  nurse,  Safie,  who  came  to  tell  him 
that  Zarina's  love  had  been  discovered,  that  her 
kinsmen  had  confined  her  in  a  strong,  guarded 
tower,  and  that  he  must  escape  alone.  She  sent 
him  a  casket  of  gold  and  gems,  with  a  promise  that 
as  soon  as  possible  she  would  make  her  escape  and 
come  to  him  in  London. 

There  really  was  nothing  for  Gilbert  k  Becket  to 
do  but  to  accept  Zarina's  casket  of  jewels,  and  fol- 
low her  advice.  So,  after  sending  her  many  loving 
farewell  messages  by  Safi^,  he  went. 

He  had  a  prosperous  voyage,  and  reached  Lon- 
don in  safety,  where  he  gave  his  friends  a  joyful 
surprise ;  for  they  had  given  him  up  for  dead. 

Year  after  year  went  by,  and  still  he  saw  nothing, 
heard  nothing,  of  his  noble  Saracen  love,  Zarina; 


THE  ENGLISH  MERCHANT  11 

and  at  last  he  grew  to  think  of  her  very  sorrow- 
fully and  tenderly,  as  of  one  dead.  But  Zarina 
lived,  and  lived  for  him  whom  she  loved,  and  who 
had  taught  her  to  love  God.  For  years  she  was 
kept  imprisoned  in  that  lonely,  guarded  tower,  near 
the  sea,  where  she  could  only  put  her  sorrow  into 
mournful  songs,  and  sigh  her  love  out  on  the  winds 
that  blew  toward  England,  and  gaze  up  at  the 
bright,  kindly  stars,  and  pray  for  Gilbert.  But 
one  night,  while  the  guard  slept,  the  brave  maiden 
stole  out  on  to  the  parapet,  and  leaped  down  many 
feet,  to  the  ground  below.  She  soon  sprang  up, 
unharmed,  and  made  her  way  to  the  strand,  when 
she  took  passage  on  a  foreign  vessel  for  Stamboul. 
Now,  all  the  English  that  this  poor  girl  remembered 
were  the  words  ^^  Gilbert  "  and  " London"  These 
she  repeated,  in  sad,  pleading,  inquiring  tones,  to 
every  one  she  met ;  but  nobody  understood  what  she 
meant  by  them. 

From  Stamboul  she  went  on  her  weary,  wander- 
ing way,  from  port  to  port  and  city  to  city,  till  she 
had  journeyed  through  many  strange  countries,  re- 
peating, everywhere,  those  two  words  of  English; 
but  all  in  vain;  for,  though  everybody  had  heard 
of  London,  none  knew  Gilbert.  Yet  the  people  were 
very  kind,  and  gave  her  food  and  shelter,  out  of 
pity  for  her  sad  face,  and  in  return  for  the  sweet 
songs  which  she  sung. 

At  length,  after  many  months  of  lonely  and  toil- 
some wandering,  she  reached  England,  and  found 
herself  amidst  the  busy,  hurrying  throngs  of  Lon- 


72    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

don.  She  gazed  about  her  bewildered,  and  almost 
despairing,  at  finding  it  so  large  a  place ; — it  would 
be  so  much  the  harder  to  find  him.  Yet  still,  pa- 
tiently and  steadily,  up  and  down  the  long  streets, 
she  went — through  market-place  and  square — past 
churches  and  palaces — singing  her  mournful  songs 
— speaking  softly,  and  more  and  more  sadly,  the  one 
beloved  word, '"  Gilbert!  " 

One  evening,  as  Gilbert  k  Becket,  the  rich  mer- 
chant, sat  at  the  banquet  table  in  his  splendid 
London  house,  entertaining  a  gay  company  of  rich 
and  noble  guests,  a  servant  brought  him  word  that 
a  beautiful  Saracen  maiden,  pale  and  sorrowful- 
looking,  stood  in  the  square  without,  singing  sad 
songs,  and  repeating  his  name  over  and  over.  In 
a  moment  Gilbert  thought  of  his  beloved  Zarina, 
and,  springing  up  from  the  table,  he  rushed  out  of 
his  brilliant  hall,  into  the  street,  where  poor  Zarina 
stood,  with  her  long,  dark  hair  glistening  with  the 
chill  night-dew,  and  her  sweet  face  looking  very 
white  and  tearful  in  the  moonlight. 

He  knew  her  at  a  glance,  though  she  was  sadly 
changed  from  the  fair  young  girl  he  had  left  in  the 
gardens  of  Mahmoud,  as  gay-hearted  as  the  birds, 
and  as  blooming  as  the  flowers.  He  called  her 
name,  he  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  the  next  time 
that  she  spoke  the  dear  word  "  Gilbert !  "  she  mur- 
mured it  against  his  heart,  while  his  lips  pressed 
her  cheeks,  and  his  eyes  dropped  happy,  loving 
tears  upon  her  brow.  He  took  her  into  his  princely 
house,  and  it  became  her  home  from  that  hour. 


THE  ENGLISH  MERCHANT  73 

She  was  baptized,  and  took  the  Christian  name  of 
Matilda ;  but  Gilbert  always  called  her  Zarina ;  for 
he  said  he  loved  that  best. 

The  faithful  lovers  were  married,  and  lived  to- 
gether for  many  years,  happy,  honored,  and  be- 
loved. Their  eldest  son,  Thomas  k  Becket,  was  a 
powerful  and  renowned  archbishop  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  the  Second. 

And  so  ends  the  true  story  of  the  "  English  Mer- 
chant and  the  Saracen  Lady." 


THE  WOMEN  OF  WEINSBERG 

Adelbert  von  Chamisso 

It  was  the  good  King  Konracl  with  all  his  army 

lay 
Before  the  town  of  Weinsberg  full  many  a  weary 

day; 
The  Guelph  at  last  was  vanquished,  but  still  the 

town  held  out; 
The  bold  and  fearless  burghers  they  fought  with 

courage  stout. 

But  then  came  hunger !  hunger,  that  was  a  griev- 
ous guest; 

They  went  to  ask  for  favor,  but  anger  met  their 
quest. 
"  Through  you  the  dust  hath  bitten  full  many  a 
worthy  knight, 

And  if  your  gates  you  open,  the  sword  shall  you 
requite !  " 

Then  came  the  women,  praying :  "  Lot  be  as  thou 

hast  said, 
Yet  give  us  women  quarter,  for  we  no  blood  have 

shed!" 
At  sight  of  these  poor  wretches  the  hero's  anger 

failed. 
And  soft  compassion  entered  and  in  his  heart 

prevailed. 

74 


THE  WOMEN  OF  WEINSBERG  16 

"  Tlie  women  shall  be  pardoned,  and  each,  with  her 

shall  bear 
As  much  as  she  can  carry  of  her  most  precious 

ware ; 
The  women  with  their  burdens  unhindered  forth 

shall  go, 
Such  is  our  royal  judgment — we  swear  it  shall 

be  so ! " 

At  early  dawn  next  morning,  ere  yet  the  east  was 
bright. 

The  soldiers  saw  advancing  a  strange  and  won- 
drous sight; 

The  gates  swung  slowly  open,  and  from  the  van- 
quished town 

Forth  swayed  a  long  procession  of  women 
weighted  down ; 

For  perched  upon  her  shoulders  each  did  her  hus- 
band bear — 

That  was  the  thing  most  precious  of  all  her  house- 
hold ware. 
"  We'll  stop  the  treacherous  women ! "  cried  all 
with  one  intent ; 

The  chancellor  he  shouted :  "  This  was  not  what 
we  meant ! " 

But  when  they  told  King  Konrad,  the  good  Xing 
laughed  aloud; 
"  If  this  was  not  our  meaning,  they've  made  it  so," 
he  vowed, 


76     HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

"  A  promise  is  a  promise,   our  loyal  word  was 
pledge; 
It  stands,  and  no  Lord  Chancellor  may  quibble 
or  may  hedge." 

Thus  was  the  royal  scutcheon  kept  free  from 
stain  or  blot ! 

The  story  has  descended  from  days  now  half  for- 
got; 

'Twas  eleven  hundred  and  forty  this  happened,  as 
I've  heard, 

The  flower  of  German  princes  thought  shame  to 
break  his  word. 


THE  BRAVE  WOMEN  OP  TANN 
William  James  Linton 

Sate  the  heavy  burghers 

In  their  gloomy  hall, 
Pondering  all  the  dangers 

Likelj^  to  befall, — 
Ward  they  yet  or  yield  the  strangers 

Their  beleaguer'd  wall. 

*'  All  our  trade  is  ruin'd : 
Saw  I  this  afar, — 
Said  I  not — our  markets 

Month-long  siege  will  mar? 
Let  not  our  good  town  embark  its 
Fortunes  on  this  war. 

"  Now  our  folly  takes  us : 
War  first  hath  his  share, 
Famine  now;  who  dreameth 

Bankrupts  can  repair 
Double  loss?  or  likely  seemeth 
Victors  should  despair? 

"  And  our  trade  is  ruin'd : 
Little  that  remains 
Let  us  save,  to  hearse  us 
77 


78    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

From  these  bloody  pains, 
Ere  the  wrathful  foe  amerce  us 
Of  our  farthest  gains !  " 

Up  and  speaks  young  Hermann 
With  the  flushing  cheek — 
"  Shame  were  it  to  render : 

Though  the  wall  be  weak  " — 

Say  the  old  men — "  Let  us  end  or 
Certain  death  we  seek !  " 

In  their  gloomy  chamber 

Thus  their  councils  wend: — 
"  Five  of  our  most  trusted 
With  the  morn  descend; 

Say — So  peace  may  be  adjusted 
Chained  lives  we'll  spend. 

"  Now  home  to  our  women ! 
They'll  be  glad  to  learn 
We  have  weigh'd  so  gravely 
'  Peace '  hath  flll'd  the  urn : 
Though  in  truth  they've  born  them 
bravely 
In  this  weary  turn." 

Home  unto  their  women ; 

But  each  burgher  found 
Scorn  in  place  of  smiling ; 

For  each  good-wife  frown'd 
On  this  coward  reconciling, 

Peace  with  honour  bound. 


THE  BRAVE  WOMEN  OF  TANN  79 

In  their  morrow's  council 

Woman  voices  rise ; 
"  Count  ye  babes  and  women 

But  as  merchandise, 
To  be  traffick'd  Avith  the  foemen, — 

Things  of  such  a  price? 

"  We  will  man  your  ramparts; 

Ye,  who  are  not  men, 
Go  hide  in  your  coffers ! 

W^e  will  call  you  when  " — 
Slid  home  'mid  the  crowd  of  scoffers 

Those  five  heralds  then. 

In  the  morrow's  danger 

Women  take  their  share ; 
Many  a  sad  grey  morning 

Found  them  watching  there : 
Till  we  learn'd  from  their  high  scornmg 

To  make  light  of  care. 

Chief  with  our  gaunt  warders 
Hermann's  young  Betrothed 

Pass'd  like  Victory's  Splendour, — 
In  bright  courage  clothed : 

Fear  hid,  fearful  to  offend  her. 
Knowing  himself  loathed. 

Blinding  red  the  sunset! 
In  that  hopeful  breast 
Stay'd  the  foeman's  arrow. 


80     HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

So  'twas  won.    The  rest — 
How  Despair  in  strait  most  narrow 
Smote  the  Conqueror's  crest — 

Matters  not.    Our  women 

Drove  him  to  his  den. 
'Twas  his  last  invasion; 

We've  had  peace  since  then. — 
This  is  why  on  State  occasion 

They  precede  our  men. 


SAENT  ELIZABETH 

WiLUAM  Wetmore  Story 

From  the  private  gateway  stealing, 

Timidly,  with  cautious  care, 
In  her  hood  her  face  concealing. 

Glancing  round  her  everywhere, 
Where  the  narrow  pathway  leadeth 

To  the  wood  beyond  the  heath, 
On  her  pious  errand  speedeth 

Hungary's  Elizabeth. 

In  her  mantle  she  hath  hidden 

Bread  to  carry  to  the  poor ; 
Yet  her  mission  is  forbidden, 

And  she  cannot  feel  secure, — 
Trembling  lest  the  hunt  be  over, 

And  returning  with  his  band, 
Full  of  wrath,  her  lord  discover 

She  hath  broken  his  command. 

Only  yesterday  he  swore  it, — 

Should  she  dare  to  disobey. 
She  should  bitterly  deplore  it 

Ere  the  closing  of  the  day. 
Yet  one  thought  her  bosom  saddens. 

Till  it  makes  her  heart  to  bleed, 
And  the  flower  that  sunshine  gladdens 

Pities  the  neglected  weed. 
81 


82    HEROINES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGEND 

Pity  for  the  starving  pleadeth 

Ever  in  her  gentle  heart, 
From  the  table  luxury  spreadeth 

She  would  give  to  them  a  part ; 
Vain  and  wicked  seems  the  splendor 

That  she  daily  round  her  sees, 
If  to  them  she  may  not  tender 

Even  life's  necessities. 

Not  a  single  eye  hath  seen  her 

Since  she  left  the  postern  gate, 
None  but  his  whose  hand  can  screen  her 

From  the  barbed  shaft  of  fate. 
On  she  goes, — a  thoughtful  beauty 

Sleeps  within  her  serious  face. 
And  the  inward  sense  of  duty 

Lends  her  an  angelic  grace. 

Suddenly  she  stops  and  listens, 

For  a  rustling  step  is  near. 
And  the  glancing  sunlight  glistens 

On  a  hunter's  brandished  spear. 
As  in  trembling  fear  she  pauses, 

Like  a  ship  before  it  strands, 
Suddenly  her  path  he  crosses, 

And  her  lord  before  her  stands. 

Fiercely  then  his  dark  eyes  lowered. 
And  her  very  heart  grew  weak, 

As  before  his  glance  she  cowered, 
Daring  not  a  word  to  speak ; 


SAINT  ELIZABETH  88 

As  the  hawk  upon  the  heron, 

Ere  he  stoopeth  down  the  air, 
On  the  lady  gazed  the  Baron, 

And  he  said,  "  What  have  you  there?  " 

Then  she  stood,  all  unresistant, 

Knowing  hope  from  earth  was  vain, 
And  the  heavens  to  her  seemed  distant 

In  that  hour  of  bitter  pain. 
For  a  moment,  bowed  with  sadness, 

Prayed  she  to  herself  alone. 
Then  a  smile  of  holy  gladness 

Over  all  her  features  shone. 

Passed  the  pain  of  her  endurance. 

But  it  left  a  pensive  grace. 
And  a  look  of  sweet  assurance 

Through  it  gleamed  upon  her  face, 
As  the  twilight's  serious  splendor 

Looks  through  fading  summer  showers, 
And  she  said,  in  accents  tender, 
"  Pardon — they  are  only  flowers." 

"  Silly  lie ! "  he  muttered,  sneering, 

As  with  sudden  grasp  he  tore 
From  her  hands  the  mantle,  bearing 

All  its  charitable  store, — 
When,  in  fragrant  showers  escaping, 

Roses  strewed  the  greensward  there. 
And  the  curse  his  lip  was  shaping 

Changed  into  a  silent  prayer. 


84    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Down  before  her  then  he  bended, 

And  the  miracle  confessed, 
And  the  hand  that  she  extended 

Humbly  to  his  lips  he  pressed. 
Saying,  "  'Tis  the  will  of  Heaven, 

And  I  can  oppose  no  more, — 
Half  my  wealth  henceforth  be  given 

To  relieve  the  sick  and  poor." 


BLACK  AGNES  OF  DUNBAR 

Sir  Walter  Scott 

Among  the  warlike  exploits  of  this  period,  we 
must  not  forget  the  defense  of  the  castle  of  Dunbar 
by  the  celebrated  Countess  of  March.  Her  lord 
had  embraced  the  side  of  David  Bruce  and  had 
taken  the  field  with  the  Regent.  The  countess,  who 
from  her  complexion  was  termed  Black  Agnes,  by 
which  name  she  is  still  familiarly  remembered,  was 
a  high-spirited  and  courageous  woman,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Thomas  Randolph,  Earl  of  Murray,  and  the 
heiress  of  his  valor  and  patriotism.  The  castle  of 
Dunbar  itself  was  very  strong,  being  built  upon  a 
chain  of  rocks  stretching  into  the  sea,  and  having 
only  one  passage  to  the  mainland,  which  was  well 
fortified.  It  was  besieged  by  Montague,  Earl  of 
Salisbury,  who  employed  to  destroy  its  walls  great 
military  engines,  constructed  to  throw  huge  stones, 
with  which  machines  fortifications  were  attacked 
before  the  use  of  cannon. 

Black  Agnes  set  all  his  attempts  at  defiance, 
and  showed  herself  with  her  maids  on  the  walls  of 
the  castle,  wiping  the  places  where  the  huge  stones 
fell  with  a  clean  towel,  as  if  they  could  do  no  ill  to 
her  castle,  save  raising  a  little  dust,  which  a  napkin 
could  wipe  away. 

85 


86    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

The  Earl  of  Salisbury  then  commanded  his  en- 
gineers to  bring  forward  to  the  assault  an  engine 
of  another  kind,  being  a  sort  of  wooden  shed,  or 
house,  rolled  forward  on  wheels,  with  a  roof  of 
peculiar  strength,  which,  from  resembling  the 
ridge  of  a  hog's  bacli,  occasioned  the  machine  to  be 
called  a  sow.  This,  according  to  the  old  mode  of 
warfare,  was  thrust  close  up  to  the  walls  of  a  be- 
sieged castle  or  city,  and  served  to  protect  from 
the  arrows  and  stones  of  the  besieged  a  party  of 
soldiers  placed  within  the  sow,  who,  being  thus  de- 
fended, were  in  the  meanwhile  employed  in  under- 
mining the  wall,  or  breaking  an  entrance  through  it 
with  pickaxes  and  mining  tools.  When  the  Countess 
of  March  saw  this  engine  advanced  to  the  walls  of 
the  castle,  she  called  out  to  the  Earl  of  Salisbury 
in  derision  and  making  a  kind  of  rhyme : 

"Beware,  Montagow, 
For  farrow  shall  thy  sow. ' ' 

At  the  same  time  she  made  a  signal,  and  a  huge 
fragment  of  rock  which  hung  prepared  for  the  pur- 
pose, was  dropped  down  from  the  wall  upon  the 
sow,  whose  roof  was  thus  dashed  to  pieces.  As  the 
English  soldiers,  who  had  been  within  it,  were 
running  as  fast  as  they  could  to  get  out  of  the  way 
of  the  arrows  and  stones  which  were  discharged  on 
them  from  the  wall,  Black  Agnes  called  out,  "  Be- 
hold the  litter  of  English  pigs !  " 

The  Earl  of  Salisbury  could  jest  also  on  such 
serious  occasions.    One  day  he  rode  near  the  walls 


BLACK  AGNES  OF  DUNBAR      87 

with  a  knight  dressed  in  armor  of  proof,  having 
three  folds  of  mail  over  an  acton,  or  leathern 
jacket ;  notwithstanding  which,  one  William  Spens 
shot  an  arrow  from  the  battlements  of  the  castle 
with  such  force,  that  it  penetrated  all  these  de- 
fenses, and  reached  the  heart  of  the  wearer.  "  That 
is  one  of  my  lady's  love-tokens,"  said  the  Earl,  as 
he  saw  the  knight  fall  dead  from  his  horse. 
"  Black  Agnes's  love-shafts  pierce  to  the  heart." 

Upon  another  occasion  the  Countess  of  March 
had  well-nigh  made  the  Earl  of  Salisbury  her  pris- 
oner. She  caused  one  of  her  people  to  enter  into 
treaty  with  the  besiegers,  pretending  to  betray  the 
castle.  Trusting  to  this  agreement,  the  earl  came 
at  midnight  before  the  gate,  which  he  found  open, 
and  the  portcullis  drawn  up.  As  Salisbury  was 
about  to  enter,  one  John  Copland,  a  squire  of 
Northumberland,  pressed  on  before  him,  and  as 
soon  as  he  passed  the  threshold,  the  portcullis  was 
dropped,  and  thus  the  Scots  missed  their  principal 
prey,  and  made  prisoner  only  a  person  of  inferior 
condition. 

At  length  the  castle  of  Dunbar  was  relieved  by 
Alexander  Ramsay  of  Dalwolsy,  who  brought  the 
countess  supplies  by  sea  both  of  men  and  provi- 
sions. The  Earl  of  Salisbury,  learning  this,  de- 
spaired of  success,  and  raised  the  siege,  which  had 
lasted  nineteen  weeks.  The  minstrels  made  songs 
in  praise  of  the  perseverance  and  courage  of  Black 
Agnes.  The  following  lines  are  nearly  the  sense  of 
what  is  preserved : 


88    HEKOINES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGEND 

* '  She  kept  a  stir  in  tower  and  trench, 
That  brawling  boisterous  Scottish  wench ; 
Came  I  early,  came  I  late, 
I  found  Agnes  at  the  gate." 


THE  SOUL  OF  THE  GREAT  BELL 

Lafcadio  Hearn 

The  water-clock  marks  tlie  hour  in  tlie  Ta-chung 
sz' — in  the  Tower  of  the  Great  Bell :  now  the  mallet 
is  lifted  to  smite  the  lips  of  the  metal  monster — the 
vast  lips  inscribed  with  Buddhist  texts  from  the 
sacred  "  Fa-hwa-King,"  from  the  chapters  of  the 
holy  "  Ling-yen-Iving  " !  Hear  the  great  bell  re- 
sponding!— how  mighty  her  voice,  though  tongue- 
less  ! — Ko-Ngai  !  All  the  little  dragons  on  the  high- 
tilted  eaves  of  the  green  roofs  shiver  to  the  tips  of 
their  gilded  tails  under  that  deep  wave  of  sound; 
all  the  porcelain  gargoyles  tremble  on  their  carven 
perches ;  all  the  hundred  little  bells  of  the  pagodas 
quiver  with  desire  to  speak.  Ko-Ngai! — all  the 
green-and-gold  tiles  of  the  temple  are  vibrating; 
the  wooden  gold-fish  above  them  are  writhing 
against  the  slvy;  the  uplifted  finger  of  Fo  shakes 
high  over  the  heads  of  the  worshippers  through  the 
blue  fog  of  incense!  Ko-Ngai! — What  a  thunder 
tone  was  that!  All  the  lacquered  goblins  on  the 
palace  cornices  wriggle  their  fire-colored  tongues! 
And  after  each  huge  shock,  how  wondrous  the  mul- 
tiple echo  and  the  great  golden  moan  and,  at  last, 
the  sudden  sibilant  sobbing  in  the  ears  when  the 

89 


90    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

immense  tone  faints  away  in  broken  whispers  of 
silver — as  tkough.  a  woman  should  whisper, 
"  Hiai!  "  Even  so  the  great  bell  hath  sounded  every 
day  for  well-nigh  five  hundred  years — Ko-l^gai: 
first  with  stupendous  clang,  then  with  immeasur- 
able moan  of  gold,  then  with  silver  murmuring  of 
''  Hiai! "  And  there  is  not  a  child  in  all  the  many- 
colored  ways  of  the  old  Chinese  city  who  does  not 
know  the  story  of  the  great  bell — ^who  cannot  tell 
you  why  t*he  great  bell  says  Ko-Ngai  and  Hiai! 

Now,  this  is  the  story  of  the  great  bell  in  the 
Ta-chung  sz%  as  the  same  is  related  in  the  "  Pe- 
Hiao-Tou-Choue,"  written  by  the  learned  Yu-Pao- 
Tchen,  of  the  city  of  Kwang-tchau-fu. 

Nearly  five  hundred  years  ago  the  Celestially 
August,  the  Son  of  Heaven,  Yong-Lo,  of  the  "  Il- 
lustrious," or  Ming,  dynasty,  commanded  the 
worthy  official  Kouan-Yu  that  he  should  have  a 
bell  made  of  such  size  that  the  sound  thereof  might 
be  heard  for  one  hundred  U.  And  he  further  or- 
dained that  the  voice  of  the  bell  should  be  strength- 
ened with  brass,  and  deepened  with  gold,  and  sweet- 
ened with  silver ;  and  that  the  face  and  the  great  lips 
of  it  should  be  graven  with  blessed  sayings  from 
the  sacred  books,  and  that  it  should  be  suspended 
in  the  center  of  the  imperial  capital,  to  sound 
through  all  the  many-colored  ways  of  the  city  of 
Pe-king. 

Therefore  the  worthy  mandarin  Kouan-Yu  as- 
sembled the  master-moulders  and  the  renowned  bell- 


THE  SOUL  OF  THE  GREAT  BELL    91 

smiths  of  the  empire,  and  all  men  of  great  repute 
and  cunning  in  foundry  work ;  and  they  measured 
the  materials  for  the  alloy,  and  treated  them  skil- 
fully, and  prepared  the  moulds,  the  fires,  the  instru- 
ments, and  the  monstrous  melting-pot  for  fusing 
the  metal.  And  they  labored  exceedingly,  like 
giants,  neglecting  only  rest  and  sleep  and  the 
comforts  of  life;  toiling  both  night  and  day  in 
obedience  to  Kouan-Yu,  and  striving  in  all  things 
to  do  the  behest  of  the  Son  of  Heaven. 

But  when  the  metal  had  been  cast,  and  the 
earthen  mould  separated  from  the  glowing  casting, 
it  was  discovered  that,  despite  their  great  labor  and 
ceaseless  care,  the  result  was  void  of  worth ;  for  the 
metals  had  rebelled  one  against  the  other — the  gold 
had  scorned  alliance  with  the  brass,  the  silver 
would  not  mingle  with  the  molten  iron.  Therefore 
the  moulds  had  to  be  once  more  prepared,  and  the 
fires  rekindled,  and  the  metal  remelted,  and  all  the 
work  tediously  and  toilsomely  repeated.  The  Son 
of  Heaven  heard,  and  was  angry,  but  spake  nothing. 

A  second  time  the  bell  was  cast,  and  the  result 
was  even  worse.  Still  the  metals  obstinately  re- 
fused to  blend  one  with  the  other;  and  there  was 
no  uniformity  in  the  bell,  and  the  sides  of  it  were 
cracked  and  fissured,  and  the  lips  of  it  were  slagged 
and  split  asunder ;  so  that  all  the  labor  had  to  be 
repeated  even  a  third  time,  to  the  great  dismay  of 
Kouan-Yu.  And  when  the  Son  of  Heaven  heard 
these  things,  he  was  angrier  than  before ;  and  sent 
his  messenger  to  Xouan-Yu  with  a  letter,  written 


92    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

upon  lemon-colored  silk,  and  sealed  with  the  seal  of 
the  Dragon,  containing  these  words : 

"From  the  Mighty  Yong-Lo,  the  Sublime  Tait- 
Sung,  the  Celestial  and  August — whose  reign  is 
called  'Ming' — to  Kouan-Yu  the  Fuh-yin:  Twice 
thou  hast  betrayed  the  trust  we  have  deigned  gra- 
ciously to  place  in  thee;  if  thou  fail  a  third  time  in 
fulfilling  our  command,  thy  head  shall  be  severed 
from  thy  neck.     Tremble  and  obey! " 

Now,  Kouan-Yu  had  a  daughter  of  dazzling  love- 
liness, whose  name — ^Ko-Ngai — was  ever  in  the 
mouths  of  poets,  and  whose  heart  was  even  more 
beautiful  than  her  face.  Ko-Ngai  loved  her  father 
with  such  love  that  she  had  refused  a  hundred 
worthy  suitors  rather  than  make  his  home  desolate 
by  her  absence;  and  when  she  had  seen  the  awful 
yellow  missive,  sealed  with  the  Dragon-Seal,  she 
fainted  away  with  fear  for  her  father's  sake.  And 
when  her  senses  and  her  strength  returned  to  her, 
she  could  not  rest  or  sleep  for  thinking  of  her  par- 
ent's danger,  until  she  had  secretly  sold  some  of 
her  jewels,  and  with  the  money  so  obtained  had  has- 
tened to  an  astrologer,  and  paid  him  a  great  price 
to  advise  her  by  what  means  her  father  might  be 
saved  from  the  peril  impending  over  him.  So  the 
astrologer  made  observations  of  the  heavens,  and 
marked  the  aspect  of  the  Silver  Stream  (which  we 
call  the  Milky  Way),  and  examined  the  signs  of 
the  Zodiac — the  Hwang-tao,  or  Yellow  Road — and 


THE  SOUL  OF  THE  GREAT  BELL         93 

consult€d  the  table  of  tlie  five  Hin,  or  Principles  of 
the  Universe,  and  the  mystical  books  of  the  alche- 
mists. And  after  a  long  silence,  he  made  answer  to 
her,  saying,  "  Gold  and  brass  will  never  meet  in 
wedlock,  silver  and  iron  never  will  embrace,  until 
the  flesh  of  a  maiden  be  melted  in  the  crucible ;  un- 
til the  blood  of  a  virgin  be  mixed  with  the  metals  in 
their  fusion."  So  Ko-Ngai  returned  home  sorrow- 
ful at  heart;  but  she  kept  secret  all  that  she  had 
heard,  and  told  no  one  what  she  had  done. 

At  last  came  the  awful  day  when  the  third  and 
last  effort  to  cast  the  great  bell  was  to  be  made ;  and 
Ko-Ngai,  together  with  her  waiting-woman,  accom- 
panied her  father  to  the  foundry,  and  they  took 
their  places  upon  a  platform  overlooking  the  toil- 
ing of  the  moulders  and  the  lava  of  liquefied  metal. 
All  the  workmen  wrought  their  tasks  in  silence; 
there  was  no  sound  heard  but  the  muttering  of  the 
fires.  And  the  muttering  deepened  into  a  roar  like 
the  roar  of  typhoons  approaching,  and  the  blood- 
red  lake  of  metal  slowly  brightened  like  the  ver- 
milion of  a  sunrise,  and  the  vermilion  was  trans- 
muted into  a  radiant  glow  of  gold,  and  the  gold 
whitened  blindingly,  like  the  silver  face  of  a  full 
moon.  Then  the  workers  ceased  to  feed  the  raving 
flame,  and  all  fixed  their  eyes  upon  the  eyes  of 
Kouan-Yu;  and  Kouan-Yu  prepared  to  give  the 
signal  to  cast. 

But  ere  ever  he  lifted  his  finger,  a.  cry  caused  him 
to  turn  his  head ;  and  all  heard  the  voice  of  Ko-Ngai 


94    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

sounding  sharply  sweet  as  a  bird's  song  above  the 
great  thunder  of  the  fires — "For  thy  sake,  0  my 
father! "  And  even  as  she  cried,  she  leaped  into 
the  white  flood  of  metal ;  and  the  lava  of  the  fur- 
nace roared  to  receive  her,  and  spattered  monstrous 
flakes  of  flame  to  the  roof,  and  burst  over  the  verge 
of  the  earthen  crater,  and  cast  up  a  whirling  foun- 
tain of  many-colored  fires,  and  subsided  quakingly, 
with  lightnings  and  with  thunders  and  with  mut- 
terings. 

Then  the  father  of  Ko-Ngai,  wild  with  his  grief, 
would  have  leaped  in  after  her,  but  that  strong  men 
held  him  back,  and  kept  firm  grasp  upon  him  until 
he  had  fainted  away  and  they  could  bear  him  like 
one  dead  to  his  home.  And  the  serving-woman  of 
Ko-Ngai,  dizzy  and  speechless  for  pain,  stood  before 
the  furnace,  still  holding  in  her  hands  a  shoe,  a  tiny, 
dainty  shoe,  with  embroidery  of  pearls  and  flowers 
— the  shoe  of  her  beautiful  mistress  that  was.  For 
she  had  sought  to  grasp  Ko-Ngai  by  the  foot  as  she 
leaped,  but  had  only  been  able  to  clutch  the  shoe, 
and  the  pretty  shoe  came  off  in  her  hand ;  and  she 
continued  to  stare  at  it  like  one  gone  mad. 

But  in  spite  of  all  these  things,  the  command  of 
the  Celestial  and  August  had  to  be  obeyed,  and  the 
work  of  the  moulders  to  be  finished,  hopeless  as  the 
result  might  be.  Yet  the  glow  of  the  metal  seemed 
purer  and  whiter  than  before;  and  there  was  no 
sign  of  the  beautiful  body  that  had  been  entombed 
therein.     So  the  ponderous  casting  was  made ;  and 


THE  SOUL  OF  THE  GREAT  BELL         95 

lo!  when  tlie  metal  had  become  cool,  it  was  found 
that  the  bell  was  beautiful  to  look  upon,  and  perfect 
in  form,  and  wonderful  in  color  above  all  other 
bells.  Nor  was  there  any  trace  found  of  the  body 
of  Ko-Xgai ;  for  it  had  been  totally  absorbed  by  the 
precious  alloy,  and  blended  with  the  well-blended 
brass  and  gold,  with  the  intermingling  of  the  silver 
and  the  iron.  And  when  they  sounded  the  bell,  its 
tones  were  found  to  be  deeper  and  mellower  and 
mightier  than  the  tones  of  any  other  bell — reaching 
even  beyond  the  distance  of  one  hundred  lij  like  a 
pealing  of  summer  thunder ;  and  yet  also  like  some 
vast  voice  uttering  a  name,  a  woman's  name — the 
name  of  Ko-Ngai ! 

And  still,  between  each  mighty  stroke,  there  is  a 
long  low  moaning  heard;  and  ever  the  moaning 
ends  with  a  sound  of  sobbing  and  of  complaining, 
as  though  a  weeping  woman  should  murmur 
"Him! "  And  still,  when  the  people  hear  that 
great  golden  moan  they  keep  silence ;  but  when  the 
sharp,  sweet,  shuddering  comes  in  the  air,  and  the 
sobbing  of  "Hkii!  "  then,  indeed,  do  all  the  Chinese 
mothers  in  all  the  many-colored  ways  of  Pe-king 
whisper  to  their  little  ones:  ''Listen!  that  is  Ko- 
Ngai  crying  for  her  shoe!  That  is  Ko-Ngai  calling 
for  her  shoe! " 


A  LEGEND  OF  BREGEKZ 

Adelaide  A.  Proctor 

Girt  round  with  rugged  mountains 

The  fair  Lake  Constance  lies ; 
In  her  Jblue  heart  reflected 

Shine  back  the  starry  skies ; 
And,  watching  each  white  cloudlet 

Float  silently  and  slow, 
You  think  a  piece  of  Heaven 

Lies  on  our  earth  below ! 

Midnight  is  there ;  and  Silence, 

Enthroned  in  Heaven,  looks  down 
Upon  her  own  calm  mirror, 

Upon  a  sleeping  town : 
For  Bregenz,  that  quaint  city 

Upon  the  Tyrol  shore. 
Has  stood  above  Lake  Constance 

A  thousand  years  and  more. 

Her  battlements  and  towers, 

From  off  their  rocky  steep, 
Have  cast  their  trembling  shadow 

For  ages  on  the  deep : 
Mountain,  and  lake,  and  valley, 

A  sacred  legend  know. 
Of  how  the  town  was  saved,  one  night, 

Three  hundred  years  ago. 
96 


A  LEGEND  OF  BKEGENZ  97 

Far  from  her  home  and  kindred 

A  Tyrol  maid  had  fled, 
To  serve  in  the  Swiss  valleys, 

And  toil  for  daily  bread ; 
And  every  year  that  fleeted 

So  silently  and  fast, 
Seemed  to  bear  farther  from  her 

The  memory  of  the  Past. 

She  served  kind,  gentle  masters, 

Nor  asked  for  rest  or  change ; 
Her  friends  seemed  no  more  new  ones, 

Their  speech  seemed  no  more  strange ; 
And  when  she  led  her  cattle 

To  pasture  every  day, 
She  ceased  to  look  and  wonder 

On  which  side  Bregenz  lay. 

She  spoke  no  more  of  Bregenz, 

With  longing  and  with  tears ; 
Her  Tyrol  home  seemed  faded 

In  a  deep  mist  of  years ; 
She  heeded  not  the  rumors 

Of  Austrian  war  and  strife, 
Each  day  she  rose,  contented, 

To  the  calm  toils  of  life. 

Yet,  when  her  master's  children 
Would  clustering  round  her  stand 

She  sang  them  ancient  ballads 
Of  her  own  native  land : 


98    HEKOINES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGEND 

And  when  at  morn  and  evening 
She  knelt  before  God's  throne, 

The  accents  of  her  childhood 
Rose  to  her  lips  alone. 

And  so  she  dwelt ;  the  valley 

More  peaceful  year  by  year ; 
When  suddenly  strange  portents 

Of  some  great  deed  seemed  near. 
The  golden  corn  was  bending 

Upon  its  fragile  stock, 
WMle  farmers,  heedless  of  their  fields, 

Paced  up  and  down  in  talk. 

The  men  seemed  stern  and  altered, 

With  looks  cast  on  the  ground ; 
With  anxious  faces,  one  by  one, 

The  women  gathered  round ; 
All  talk  of  flax,  or  spinning. 

Or  work,  was  put  away. 
The  very  children  seemed  afraid 

To  go  alone  to  play. 

One  day,  out  in  the  meadow 

With  strangers  from  the  town, 
Some  secret  plan  discussing, 

The  men  walked  up  and  down. 
Yet  now  and  then  seemed  watching 

A  strange  uncertain  gleam. 
That  looked  like  lances  'mid  the  trees 

That  stood  below  the  stream. 


i 


A  LEGEND  OF  BREGENZ  99 

At  eve  they  all  assembled, 

Tlien  care  and  doubt  were  fled ; 
With  jovial  laugh  they  feasted ; 

The  board  was  nobly  spread. 
The  elder  of  the  village 

Rose  up,  his  glass  in  hand, 
And  cried,  "  We  drink  the  downfall 

Of  an  accursed  land ! 

"  The  night  is  growing  darker, 

Ere  one  more  day  is  flown, 
Bregenz,  our  foemen's  stronghold, 

Bregenz  shall  be  our  own !  " 
The  women  shrank  in  terror, 

(Yet  Pride,  too,  had  her  part,) 
But  one  poor  Tyrol  maiden 

Felt  death  within  her  heart. 

Before  her  stood  fair  Bregenz ; 

Once  more  her  towers  arose ; 
What  were  the  friends  beside  her? 

Only  her  country's  foes ! 
The  faces  of  her  kinsfolk, 

The  days  of  childhood  flown. 
The  echoes  of  her  mountains, 

Reclaimed  her  as  their  own ! 

Nothing  she  heard  around  her, 
(Though  shouts  rang  forth  again,) 

Gone  were  the  green  Swiss  valleys, 
The  pasture,  and  the  plain ; 


100    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Before  lier  eyes  one  vision, 

And  in  her  heart  one  cry, 
That  said,  *'  G-o  forth,  save  Bregenz, 

And  then,  if  need  be,  die !  " 

With  trembling  haste  and  breathless, 

With  noiseless  step,  she  sped ; 
Horses  and  weary  cattle 

Were  standing  in  the  shed ; 
She  loosed  the  strong,  white  charger, 

That  fed  from  out  her  hand, 
She  mounted,  and  she  turned  his  head 

Towards  her  native  land. 

Out — out  into  the  darkness — 

Faster,  and  still  more  fast ; 
The  smooth  grass  flies  behind  her, 

The  chestnut  wood  is  past ; 
She  looks  up ;  clouds  are  heavy : 

Why  is  her  steed  so  slow? — 
Scarcely  the  wind  beside  them 

Can  pass  them  as  they  go. 

"  Faster !  "  she  cries,  "  O  faster !  " 
Eleven  the  church-bells  chime: 
"  O  God,"  she  cries,  "  help  Bregenz, 
And  bring  me  there  in  time !  " 
But  louder  than  bells'  ringing. 

Or  lowing  of  the  kine, 
Grows  nearer  in  the  midnight 
The  rushing:  of  the  Rhine. 


A  LEGEND  OF  BREGENZ  101 

Sliall  not  tlie  roaring  waters 

Their  headlong  gallop  check? 
The  steed  draws  back  in  terror, 

She  leans  upon  his  neck 
To  watch  the  flowing  darkness ; 

The  bank  is  high  and  steep ; 
One  pause — ^he  staggers  forward, 

And  plunges  in  the  deep. 

She  strives  to  pierce  the  blackness, 

And  looser  throws  the  rein ; 
Her  steed  must  breast  the  waters 

That  dash  above  his  mane. 
How  gallantly,  how  nobly, 

He  struggles  through  the  foam, 
And  see — in  the  far  distance 

Shine  out  the  lights  of  home ! 

Up  the  steep  banks  he  bears  her, 

And  now,  they  rush  again 
Towards  the  heights  of  Bregenz, 

That  tower  above  the  plain. 
They  reach  the  gate  of  Bregenz, 

Just  as  the  midnight  rings, 
And  out  come  serf  and  soldier 

To  meet  the  news  she  brings. 

Bregenz  is  saved !  ere  daylight 

Her  battlements  are  manned ; 
Defiance  greets  the  army 

That  marches  on  the  land. 


102    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

And  if  to  deeds  heroic 

Should  endless  fame  be  paid, 

Bregenz  does  well  to  honor 
The  noble  Tyrol  maid. 

Three  hundred  years  are  vanished. 

And  yet  upon  the  hill 
An  old  stone  gateway  rises, 

To  do  her  honor  still. 
And  there,  when  Bregenz  women 

Sit  spinning  in  the  shade, 
They  see  in  quaint  old  carving 

The  Charger  and  the  Maid. 

And  when,  to  guard  old  Bregenz, 

By  gateway,  street,  and  tower. 
The  warder  paces  all  night  long 

And  calls  each  passing  hour ; 
"  Nine,"  "  ten,"  "  eleven,"  he  cries  aloud. 

And  then  (O  crown  of  Fame!) 
When  midnight  pauses  in  the  skies. 

He  calls  the  maiden's  name ! 


THE   FAREWELL   OF   JOAN   OF   ARC 

Frederick  Schiller 

Faeewbll^  ye  mountains,  ye  beloved  glades, 
Ye  lone  and  peaceful  valleys,  fare  ye  well ! 
Through  you  Johanna  never  more  may  stray ! 
For  aye,  Johanna  bids  you  now  farewell. 
Ye  meads  which  I  have  water'd  and  ye  trees 
Which  I  have  planted,  still  in  beauty  bloom ! 
Farewell,  ye  grottos,  and  ye  crystal  springs ! 
Sweet  echo,  vocal  spirit  of  the  vale. 
Who  sang'st  responsive  to  my  simi^le  strain, 
Johanna  goes,  and  ne'er  returns  again. 

Ye  scenes  where  all  my  tranquil  joys  I  knew, 
Forever  now  I  leave  you  far  behind ! 
Poor  foldless  lambs,  no  shepherd  now  have  you ! 
O'er  the  wide  heath  stray  henceforth  unconfln'd ! 
For  I  to  danger's  field,  of  crimson  hue. 
Am  summon'd  hence,  another  flock  to  find. 
Such  is  to  me  the  Spirit's  high  behest ; 
'No  earthly  vain  ambition  fires  my  breast. 

For  who  in  glory  did  on  Horeb's  height 
Descend  to  Moses  in  the  bush  of  flame. 
And  bade  him  go  and  stand  in  Pharaoh's  sight — 
Who  once  to  Israel's  pious  shepherd  came, 
And  sent  him  forth,  his  champion  in  the  fight, — 
103 


104    HEEOESTES  OF  HISTOBT  A]S"D  LEGEND 

Who  aye  hatli  loved  the  lowly  shepherd  train, — 
He,  from  these  leafy  boughs,  thus  spake  to  me, 
"  Go  forth !    Thou  shalt  on  earth  my  witness  be. 

"  Thou  in  rude  armor  must  thy  limbs  invest, 
A  plate  of  steel  upon  thy  bosom  wear ; 
Vain  earthly  love  may  never  stir  thy  breast, 
Nor  passion's  sinful  glow  be  kindled  there. 
Ne'er  with  the  bride-wreath  shall  thy  locks  be 

dress'd, 
Nor  on  thy  bosom  bloom  an  infant  fair ; 
But  war's  triumphant  glory  shall  be  thine ; 
Thy  martial  fame  all  women's  shall  outshine. 

"  For  when  in  fight  the  stoutest  hearts  despair. 
When  direful  ruin  threatens  France,  forlorn, 
Then  thou  aloft  my  oriflamme  shalt  bear, 
And  swiftly  as  the  reaper  mows  the  corn. 
Thou  shalt  lay  low  the  haughty  conqueror ; 
His  fortune's  wheel  thou  rapidly  shalt  turn. 
To  Gaul's  heroic  sons  deliv'rance  bring, 
Believe    beleaguer'd    Rheims,    and    crown    thy 
king ! " 

The  heavenly  Spirit  promised  me  a  sign ; 

He  sends  the  helmet,  it  hath  come  from  him. 

Its  iron  filleth  me  with  strength  divine, 

I  feel  the  courage  of  the  cherubim ; 

As  with  the  rushing  of  a  mighty  wind 

It  drives  me  forth  to  join  the  battle's  din ; 

The  clanging  trumpets  sound,  the  chargers  rear, 

And  the  loud  war-cry  thunders  in  mine  ear. 


A  BALLAD  OF  ORLEANS 

A.  Mary  F.  Robinson 
The  fray  began  at  tlie  middle-gate, 

Between  the  night  and  the  day ; 
Before  the  matin  bell  was  rung 

The  foe  was  far  away. 
No  knight  in  all  the  land  of  France 

Could  gar  that  foe  to  flee, 
Till  up  there  rose  a  young  maiden, 

And  drove  them  to  the  sea. 

Sixty  forts  around  Orleans  town, 

And  sixty  forts  of  stone! 
Sixty  forts  at  our  gates  last  night — 

To-day  there  is  not  one! 

Talbot,  Suffolk,  and  Pole  are  fled 

Beyond  the  Loire,  in  fear — 
Many  a  captain  who  would  not  drink 

Hath  drunken  deeply  there — 
Many  a  captain  is  fallen  and  drowned. 

And  many  a  knight  is  dead, 
And  many  die  in  the  misty  dawn 

While  the  forts  are  burning  red. 

Sixty  forts  around  Orleans  town, 
And  siwty  forts  of  stone! 

Sixty  forts  at  our  gates  last  night- 
To-day  there  is  not  one! 
105 


106    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

The  blood  ran  off  our  spears  all  night 

As  the  rain  runs  off  the  roofs — 
God  rest  their  souls  that  fell  i'  the  fight 

Among  our  horses'  hoofs ! 
They  came  to  rob  us  of  our  own 

With  sword  and  spear  and  lance, 
They  fell  and  clutched  the  stubborn  earth, 

And  bit  the  dust  of  France ! 

Sixty  forts  around  Orleans  town, 

And  sixty  forts  of  stone! 
Sixty  forts  at  our  gates  last  night — 

To-day  there  is  not  one! 

We  fought  across  the  moonless  dark 

Against  their  unseen  hands — 
A  knight  came  out  of  Paradise 

And  fought  among  our  bands. 
Fight  on,  O  maiden  knight  of  God ! 

Fight  on  and  never  tire. 
For  lo !  the  misty  break  o'  the  day 

Sees  all  their  forts  on  fire ! 

Sixty  forts  around  Orleans  town, 

And  sixty  forts  of  stone! 
Sixty  forts  at  our  gates  last  night — 

To-day  there  is  not  one! 


►J    f 


THE  MAID 

Theodore  Roberts 

Thunder  of  riotous  hoofs  over  tlie  quaking  sod ; 

Clash  of  reeking  squadrons,  steel-capped,  iron- 
shod; 

The  White  Maid  and  the  white  horse,  and  the 
flapping  banner  of  God. 

Black  hearts  riding  for  money;  red  hearts  riding 

for  fame; 
The  Maid  who  rides  for  France,  and  the  King 

who  rides  for  shame — 
Gentlemen,  fools,  and  a  saint  riding  in  Christ's 

high  Name! 

"Dust  to  dust!"  it  is  written.     Wind-scattered 
are  lance  and  bow, 
Dust,  the  Cross  of  St.  George ;  dust,  the  banner  of 

snow. 
The  bones  of  the  King  are  crumbled,  and  rotted 
the  shafts  of  the  foe. 

Forgotten,  the  young  knight's  valor;  forgotten, 
the  captain's  skill ; 

Forgotten,  the  fear  and  the  hate  and  the  mailed 
hands  raised  to  kill ; 

Forgotten,  the  shields  that  clashed  and  the  ar- 
rows that  cried  so  shrill. 
107 


108    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Like  a  story  from  some  old  book,  that  battle  of 

long  ago; 
Shadows,  the  poor  French  King  and  the  might  of 

his  English  foe; 
Shadows,  the  charging  nobles,  and  the  archers 

kneeling  a-row — 
But  a  flame  in  my  heart  and  my  eyes,  the  Maid 

with  her  banner  of  snow ! 


THE  KING'S  TRAGEDY 

James  I  of  Scots,  20th  February,  1437 
Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti 

I  Catherine  am  a  Douglas  born, 

A  name  to  all  Scots  dear ; 
And  Kate  Barlass  they've  called  me  now 

Through  many  a  waning  year. 

This  old  arm's  withered  now.    'Twas  once 

Most  deft  'mong  maidens  all 
To  rein  the  steed,  to  wing  the  shaft, 

To  smite  the  palm-play  ball. 

In  hall  adown  the  close-linked  dance 
It  has  shone  most  white  and  fair ; 
It  has  been  the  rest  for  a  true  lord's  head, 
And  many  a  sweet  babe's  nursing-bed, 
And  the  bar  to  a  King's  chambere. 

Aye,  lasses,  draw  round  Kate  Barlass, 

And  hark  with  bated  breath 
How  good  King  James,  King  Robert's  son. 

Was  foully  done  to  death. 

Through  all  the  days  of  his  gallant  youth 

The  princely  James  was  pent, 
By  his  friends  at  first  and  then  by  his  foes, 

In  long  imprisonment. 
109 


110    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

For  the  elder  Prince,  tlie  kingdom's  heir, 

By  treason's  murderous  brood 
Was  slain;  and  the  father  quaked  for  the  child 

With  the  royal  mortal  blood. 

I'  the  Bass  Rock  fort,  by  his  father's  care, 

Was  his  childhood's  life  assured ; 
And  Henry  the  subtle  Bolingbroke, 
Proud    England's    King,    'neath    the    southron 
yoke 

His  youth  for  long  years  immured. 

Yet  in  all  things  meet  for  a  kingly  man 

Himself  did  he  approve ; 
And  the  nightingale  through  his  prison-wall 

Taught  him  both  lore  and  love. 

For  once,  when  the  bird's  song  drew  him  close 

To  the  opened  window-pane, 
In  her  bowers  beneath  a  lady  stood, 
A  light  of  life  to  his  sorrowful  mood. 

Like  a  lily  amid  the  rain. 

And  for  her  sake,  to  the  sweet  bird's  note, 

He  framed  a  sweeter  Song, 
More  sweet  than  ever  a  poet's  heart 

Gave  yet  to  the  English  tongue. 

She  was  a  lady  of  royal  blood ; 

And  when,  past  sorrow  and  teen. 
He  stood  where  still  through  his  crownless  years 


THE  KING'S  TRAGEDY  111 

His  Scottish  realm  had  been, 
At  Scone  were  the  happy  lovers  crowned, 
A  heart-wed  King  and  Queen. 

But  the  bird  may  fall  from  the  bough  of  youth. 

And  song  be  turned  to  moan. 
And  Love's  storm-cloud  be  the  shadow  of  Hate, 
When  the  tempest- waves  of  a  troubled  State 

Are  beating  against  a  throne. 

Yet  well  they  loved ;  and  the  god  of  Love, 

Whom  well  the  King  had  sung. 
Might  find  on  the  earth  no  truer  hearts 

His  lowliest  swains  among. 

From  the  days  when  first  she  rode  abroad 

With  Scottish  maids  in  her  train, 
I  Catherine  Douglas  won  the  trust 

Of  my  mistress  sweet  Queen  Jane. 

And  oft  she  sighed,  "  To  be  born  a  King ! " 

And  oft  along  the  way 
When  she  saw  the  homely  lovers  pass 

She  has  said,  "  Alack  the  day !  " 

Years  waned, — the  loving  and  toiling  years : 

Till  England's  wrong  renewed 
Drove  James,  by  outrage  cast  on  his  crown. 

To  the  open  field  of  feud. 

'Twas  when  the  King  and  his  host  were  met 

At  the  leaguer  of  Roxbro'  hold, 
The  Queen  o'  the  sudden  sought  his  camp 

With  a  tale  of  dread  to  be  told. 


112    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

And  she  showed  him  a  secret  letter  writ 

That  spoke  of  treasonous  strife, 
And  how  a  band  of  his  noblest  lords 

Were  sworn  to  take  his  life. 

"  And  it  may  be  here  or  it  may  be  there, 
In  the  camp  or  the  court,"  she  said : 

"  But  for  my  sake  come  to  your  people's  arms 
And  guard  your  royal  head." 

Quoth  he,  "  'Tis  the  fifteenth  day  of  the  siege, 

And  the  castle's  nigh  to  yield." 
"  O  face  your  foes  on  your  throne,"  she  cried, 
"  And  show  the  power  you  wield ; 
And  under  your  Scottish  people's  love 

You  shall  sit  as  under  your  shield." 

At  the  fair  Queen's  side  I  stood  that  day 
When  he  bade  them  raise  the  siege. 

And  back  to  his  Court  he  sped  to  know 
How  the  lords  would  meet  their  Liege. 

But  when  he  summoned  his  Parliament, 

The  louring  brows  hung  round, 
Like  clouds  that  circle  the  mountain-head 

Ere  the  first  low  thunders  sound. 

For  he  had  tamed  the  nobles'  lust 
And  curbed  their  power  and  pride. 

And  reached  out  an  arm  to  right  the  poor 
Through  Scotland  far  and  wide; 

And  many  a  lordly  wrong-doer 
By  the  headsman's  axe  had  died. 


THE  KING'S  TRAGEDY  113 

'Twas  then  upspoke  Sir  Robert  Graeme, 
The  bold  o'erinastering  mau : — 
"  O  King,  in  the  name  of  your  Three  Estates 
I  set  you  under  their  ban ! 

"  For,  as  your  lords  made  oath  to  you 
Of  service  and  fealty, 
Even  in  like  wise  you  pledged  your  oath 
Their  faithful  sire  to  be : — 

"  Yet  all  we  here  that  are  nobly  sprung 
Have  mourned  dear  kith  and  kin 
Since  first  for  the  Scottish  Barons'  curse 
Did  your  bloody  rule  begin." 

With  that  he  laid  his  hands  on  his  King: — 
"  Is  this  not  so,  my  lords?  " 
But  of  all  who  had  sworn  to  league  with  him 
Not  one  spake  back  to  his  words. 

Quoth  the  King : — "  Thou  speak'st  but  for  one 
Estate, 
Nor  doth  it  avow  thy  gage. 
Let  my  liege  lords  hale  this  traitor  hence !  " 
The  Graeme  fired  dark  with  rage: — 
"  Who  works  for  lesser  men  than  himself, 
He  earns  but  a  witless  wage !  " 

But  soon  from  the  dungeon  where  he  lay 

He  won  by  privy  plots. 
And  forth  he  fled  with  a  price  on  his  head 

To  the  country  of  the  Wild  Scots. 


114    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

And  word  there  came  from  Sir  Robert  Graeme 

To  the  King  at  Edinbro' : — 
"  No  liege  of  mine  thou  art ;  but  I  see 
From  this  day  forth  alone  in  thee 

God's  creature,  my  mortal  foe. 

"  Through  thee  are  my  wife  and  children  lost, 

My  heritage  and  lands; 
And  when  my  God  shall  show  me  a  way, 
Thyself  my  mortal  foe  will  I  slay 

With  these  my  proper  hands." 

Against  the  coming  of  Christmastide 

That  year  the  King  bade  call 
I'  the  Black  Friars'  Charterhouse  of  Perth 

A  solemn  festival. 

And  we  of  his  household  rode  with  him 

In  a  close-ranked  company; 
But  not  till  the  sun  had  sunk  from  his  throne 

Did  we  reach  the  Scottish  Sea. 

That  eve  was  clenched  for  a  boding  storm, 
'Neath  a  toilsome  moon  half  seen ; 

The  cloud  stooped  low  and  the  surf  rose  high ; 

And  where  there  was  a  line  of  the  sky, 
Wild  wings  loomed  dark  between. 

And  on  a  rock  of  the  black  beach-side, 

By  the  veiled  moon  dimly  lit, 
There  was  something  seemed  to  heave  with  life 

As  the  King  drew  nigh  to  it. 


THE  KING'S  TKAGEDY  115 

And  was  it  only  the  tossing  f  ui'ze 

Or  brake  of  the  waste  sea-wold? 
Or  was  it  an  eagle  bent  to  the  blast? 
When  near  we  came,  we  knew  it  at  last 

For  a  woman  tattered  and  old. 

But  it  seemed  as  though  by  a  fire  within 

Her  writhen  limbs  were  wrung ; 
And  as  soon  as  the  King  was  close  to  her, 

She  stood  up  gaunt  and  strong. 

'Twas  then  the  moon  sailed  clear  of  the  rack 

On  high  in  her  hollow  dome ; 
And  still  as  aloft  with  hoary  crest 

Each  clamorous  wave  rang  home, 
Like  fire  in  snow  the  moonlight  blazed 

Amid  the  champing  foam. 

And  the  woman  held  his  eyes  with  her  eyes : — 
"  O  King,  thou  art  come  at  last ; 
But  thy  wraith  has  haunted  the  Scottish  Sea 
To  my  sight  for  four  years  past. 

"  Four  years  it  is  since  first  I  met, 
'Twixt  the  Duchray  and  the  Dhu, 
A  shape  whose  feet  clung  close  in  a  shroud, 
And  that  shape  for  thine  I  knew. 

"  A  year  again,  and  on  Inchkcith  Isle 
I  saw  thee  pass  in  the  breeze, 
With  the  cerecloth  risen  above  thy  feet 
And  wound  about  thy  knees. 


116    HEROESTES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

"  And  yet  a  year,  in  the  Links  of  Forth, 
As  a  wanderer  without  rest. 
Thou  cam'st  with  both  thine  arms  i'  the  shroud 
That  clung  high  up  thy  breast. 

"  And  in  this  hour  I  find  thee  here, 
And  well  mine  eyes  may  note 
That  the  winding-sheet  hath  passed  thy  breast 
And  risen  around  thy  throat. 

"  And  when  I  meet  thee  again,  O  King, 
That  of  death  hast  such  sore  drouth, — 
Except  thou  turn  again  on  this  shore, — 
The  winding-sheet  shall  have  moved  once  more 
And  covered  thine  eyes  and  mouth. 

"  O  King,  whom  poor  men  bless  for  their  King, 
Of  thy  fate  be  not  so  fain ; 
But  these  my  words  for  God's  message  take. 
And  turn  thy  steed,  O  King,  for  her  sake 
Who  rides  beside  thy  rein !  " 

While  the  woman  spoke,  the  King's  horse  reared 

As  if  it  would  breast  the  sea. 
And  the  Queen  turned  pale  as  she  heard  on  the 
gale 

The  voice  die  dolorously. 

When  the  woman  ceased,  the  steed  was  still, 

But  the  King  gazed  on  her  yet, 
And  in  silence  save  for  the  wail  of  the  sea 

His  eyes  and  her  eyes  met. 


THE  KING'S  TRAGEDY  117 

At  last  lie  said : — "  God's  ways  are  His  own ; 

Man  is  but  shadow  and  dust. 
Last  night  I  prayed  by  His  altar-stone ; 
To-night  I  wend  to  the  Feast  of  His  Son ; 

And  in  Him  I  set  my  trust. 

"  I  have  held  my  people  in  sacred  charge, 

And  have  not  feared  the  sting 
Of  proud  men's  hate, — to  His  will  resign'd 
Who  has  but  one  same  death  for  a  hind 

And  one  same  death  for  a  King. 

"And  if  God  in  His  wisdom  have  brought  close 

The  day  when  I  must  die. 
That  day  by  water  or  fire  or  air 
My  feet  shall  fall  in  the  destined  snare 

Wherever  my  road  may  lie. 

"  What  man  can  say  but  the  Fiend  hath  set 
Thy  sorcery  on  my  path, 
My  heart  with  the  fear  of  death  to  fill. 
And  turn  me  against  God's  very  will 
To  sink  in  His  burning  wrath?  " 

The  woman  stood  as  the  train  rode  past. 

And  moved  nor  limb  nor  eye ; 
And  when  we  were  shipped,  we  saw  her  there 

Still  standing  against  the  sky. 

As  the  ship  made  way,  the  moon  once  more 

Sank  slow  in  her  rising  pall ; 
And  I  thought  of  the  shrouded  wraith  of  the 
King, 

And  I  said,  "  The  Heavens  know  all." 


118    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

And  now,  ye  lasses,  must  ye  hear 
How  my  name  is  Kate  Barlass : — 

But  a  little  thing,  when  all  the  tale 
Is  told  of  the  weary  mass 

Of  crime  and  woe  which  in  Scotland's  realm 
God's  will  let  come  to  pass, 

Twas  in  the  Charterhouse  of  Perth 

That  the  King  and  all  his  Court 
Were  met,  the  Christmas  Feast  being  done, 

For  solace  and  disport. 

'Twas  a  wind-wild  eve  in  February, 

And  against  the  casement-pane 
The  branches  smote  like  summoning  hands 

And  muttered  the  driving  rain. 

And  when  the  wind  swooped  over  the  lift 
And  made  the  whole  heaven  frown, 

It  seemed  a  grip  was  laid  on  the  walls 
To  tug  the  housetop  down. 

And  the  Queen  was  there,  more  stately  fair 

Than  a  lily  in  garden  set ; 
And  the  King  was  loth  to  stir  from  her  side; 
For  as  on  the  day  when  she  was  his  bride. 

Even  so  he  loved  her  yet. 

And  the  Earl  of  Athole,  the  King's  false  friend, 

Sat  with  him  at  the  board ; 
And  Robert  Stuart  the  chamberlain 

Who  had  sold  his  sovereign  Lord. 


THE  KING'S  TRAGEDY  119 

Yet  the  traitor  Christoplier  Chaumber  there 

Would  fain  have  told  hiin  all, 
And  vainly  four  times  that  night  he  strove 

To  reach  the  King  through  the  hall. 

But  the  wine  is  bright  at  the  goblet's  brim 

Though  the  i)oison  lurk  beneath ; 
And  the  apples  still  are  red  on  the  tree 
Within  whose  shade  may  the  adder  be 

That  shall  turn  thy  life  to  death. 

There  was  a  knight  of  the  King's  fast  friends 
Whom  he  called  the  King  of  Love ; 

And  to  such  bright  cheer  and  courtesy 
That  name  might  best  behove. 

And  the  King  and  Queen  both  loved  him  well 

For  his  gentle  knightliness ; 
And  with  him  the  King,  as  that  eve  wore  on, 

Was  playing  at  the  chess. 

And  the  King  said,  (for  he  thought  to  jest 
And  soothe  the  Queen  thereby) , 
"  In  a  book  'tis  writ  that  this  same  year 
A  King  shall  in  Scotland  die. 

"  And  I  have  pondered  the  matter  o'er, 
And  this  have  I  found,  Sir  Hugh, — 
There  are  but  two  Kings  on  Scottish  ground, 
And  those  Kings  are  I  and  you. 


120    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

"  And  I  have  a  wife  and  a  newborn  heir, 
And  you  are  yourself  alone ; 
So  stand  you  stark  at  my  side  with  me 
To  guard  our  double  throne. 

^'  For  here  sit  I  and  my  wife  and  child, 
As  well  your  heart  shall  approve, 
In  full  surrender  and  soothfastness, 
Beneath  your  Kingdom  of  Love." 

And  the  Kiiight  laughed,  and  the  Queen,  too, 
smiled ; 

But  I  knew  her  heavy  thought. 
And  I  strove  to  find  in  the  good  King's  jest 

What  cheer  might  thence  be  wrought. 

And  I  said,  "  My  Liege,  for  the  Queen's  dear  love 

Now  sing  the  song  that  of  old 
You  made,  when  a  captive  Prince  you  lay, 
And  the  nightingale  sang  sweet  on  the  spray, 

In  Windsor's  castle-hold." 

Then  he  smiled  the  smile  I  knew  so  well 
When  he  thought  to  please  the  Queen ; 

The  smile  which  under  all  bitter  frowns 
Of  hate  that  rose  between, 

For  ever  dwelt  at  the  poet's  heart 
Like  the  bird  of  love  unseen. 

And  he  kissed  her  hand  and  took  his  harp. 

And  the  music  sweetly  rang ; 
And  when  the  song  burst  forth,  it  seemed 

'Twas  the  nightingale  that  sang. 


THE  KING'S  TRAGEDY  121 

"  Worship,  ye  lovers,  on  this  May: 

Of  bliss  your  kalends  are  begun: 
Sing  with  us.  Away,  Winter,  away! 

Come,  Summer,  the  sweet  season  and  sun! 

Awake  for  shame, — your  heaven  is  won, — 
And  amorously  your  hands  lift  all: 
Thank  Love,  that  you  to  his  grace  doth  call! " 

But  when  he  bent  to  the  Queen,  and  sang 
The  speech  whose  praise  was  hers, 

It  seemed  his  voice  was  the  voice  of  the  Spring 
And  the  voice  of  the  bygone  years. 

"  The  fairest  and  the  freshest  flower 
That  ever  I  saw  before  that  hour. 
The  which  o'  the  sudden  made  to  start 
The  blood  of  my  body  to  my  heart. 
****** 

Ah  sweet,  are  ye  a  worldly  creature 
Or  heavenly  thing  in  form  of  nature?  " 

And  the  song  was  long,  and  richly  stored 
With  wonder  and  beauteous  things  ; 

And  the  harp  was  tuned  to  every  change 
Of  minstrel  ministerings ; 

But  when  he  spoke  of  the  Queen  at  the  last, 
Its  strings  were  his  own  heart-strings. 

**  Unworthy  but  only  of  her  grace, 

Upon  Love's  rock  that's  easy  and  sure. 
In  guerdon  of  all  my  love's  space 
She  took  me  as  her  humble  creature. 


122    HEROmES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Thus  fell  my  blissful  aventure 
In  youth  of  love  that  from  day  to  day 
Flowereth  aye  new,  and  further  I  say. 

«  q^Q  reckon  all  the  circumstance 

As  it  happed  when  lessen  gan  my  sore, 
Of  my  rancor  and  woful  chance, 
It  were  too  long — /  have  done  therefor. 
And  of  this  flower  I  say  no  more 
But  unto  my  help  her  heart  hath  tended 
And  even  from  death  her  man  defended/^ 

"  Aye,  even  from  death./'  to  myself  I  said ; 
For  I  thouglit  of  tlie  day  when  she 
Had  borne  him  the  news,  at  Roxbro'  siege, 
Of  the  fell  confederacy. 

But  Death  even  then  took  aim  as  he  sang 

With  an  arrow  deadly  bright ; 
And  the  grinning  skull  lurked  grimly  aloof, 
And  the  wings  were  spread  far  over  the  roof 

More  dark  than  the  winter  night. 

Yet  truly  along  the  amorous  song 

Of  Love's  high  pomp  and  state, 
There  were  words  of  Fortune's  trackless  doom 

And  the  dreadful  face  of  Fate. 

And  oft  have  I  heard  again  in  dreams 

The  voice  of  dire  appeal 
In  which  the  King  then  sang  of  the  pit 

That  is  under  Fortune's  wheel. 


THE  KING'S  TRAGEDY  123 

"  And  under  the  wheel  beheld  I  there 

An  ugly  Pit  as  deep  as  hell, 
That  to  behold  I  quaked  for  fear: 

And  this  I  heard,  that  who  therein  fell 

Came  no  more  up,  tidings  to  tell: 
Whereat,  astound  of  the  fearful  sight, 
I  wist  not  what  to  do  for  fright." 


And  oft  has  my  thouglit  called  up  again 
These  words  of  the  changeful  song : — 
Wist  thou  thy  pain  and  thy  travail 
To  come,  well  might'st  thou  weep  and  wail! " 
And  our  wail,  O  God !  is  long. 

But  the  song's  end  was  all  of  his  love ; 

And  well  his  heart  was  grac'd 
With  her  smiling  lips  and  her  tear-bright  eyes 

As  his  arm  went  round  her  waist. 


And  on  the  swell  of  her  long  fair  throat 

Close  clung  the  necklet-chain 
As  he  bent  her  pearl-tir'd  head  aside, 
And  in  the  warmth  of  his  love  and  pride 
He  kissed  her  lips  full  fain. 

And  her  true  face  was  a  rosy  red, 

The  very  red  of  the  rose 
That,  couched  on  the  happy  garden-bed, 

In  the  summer  sunlight  glows. 


124    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

And  all  the  wondrous  things  of  love 
That  sang  so  sweet  through  the  song 

Were  in  the  look  that  met  in  their  eyes, 
And  the  look  was  deep  and  long. 

'Twas  then  a  knock  came  at  the  outer  gate, 

And  the  usher  sought  the  King. 
"  The  woman  you  met  by  the  Scottish  Sea, 

My  Liege,  would  tell  you  a  thing ; 
And  she  says  that  her  present  need  for  speech 

Will  bear  no  gainsaying." 

And  the  King  said :  "  The  hour  is  late ; 

To-morrow  will  serve,  I  ween." 
Then  he  charged  the  usher  strictly,  and  said: 
"  No  word  of  this  to  the  Queen." 

But  the  usher  came  again  to  the  King. 
"  Shall  I  call  her  back?  "  quoth  he : 
"  For  as  she  went  on  her  way,  she  cried, 
*  Woe !    Woe !  then  the  thing  must  be ! '  " 

And  the  King  paused,  but  he  did  not  speak. 

Then  he  called  for  the  Voidee-cup : 
And  as  we  heard  the  twelfth  hour  strike. 
There  by  true  lips  and  false  lips  alike 

Was  the  draught  of  trust  drained  up. 

So  with  reverence  meet  to  King  and  Queen, 

To  bed  went  all  from  the  board ; 
And  the  last  to  leave  of  the  courtly  train 
Was  Robert  Stuart  the  chamberlain 

Who  had  sold  his  sovereign  lord. 


THE  KING'S  TRAGEDY  125 

And  all  the  locks  of  the  chamber-door 

Had  the  traitor  riven  and  brast ; 
And  that  Fate  might  win  sure  way  from  afar, 
He  had  drawn  out  every  bolt  and  bar 

That  made  the  entrance  fast. 

And  now  at  midnight  he  stole  his  way 

To  the  moat  of  the  outer  wall, 
And  laid  strong  hurdles  closely  across 

Where  the  traitors'  tread  should  fall. 

But  we  that  were  the  Queen's  bower-maids 

Alone  were  left  behind ; 
And  with  heed  we  drew  the  curtains  close 

Against  the  winter  wind. 

And  now  that  all  was  still  through  the  hall, 

More  clearly  we  heard  the  rain 
That  clamored  ever  against  the  glass 

And  the  boughs  that  beat  on  the  pane. 

But  the  fire  was  bright  in  the  ingle-nook, 

And  through  empty  space  around 
The  shadows  cast  on  the  arras'd  wall 
'Mid  the  pictured  kings  stood  sudden  and  tall 

Like  spectres  sprung  from  the  ground. 

And  the  bed  was  dight  in  a  deep  alcove ; 

And  as  he  stood  by  the  fire 
The  King  was  still  in  talk  with  the  Queen 

While  he  doffed  his  goodly  attire. 


126    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

And  the  song  had  brought  the  image  back 

Of  many  a  bygone  year ; 
And  many  a  loving  word  they  said 
With  hand  in  hand  and  head  laid  to  head; 

And  none  of  us  went  anear. 


But  Love  was  weeping  outside  the  house, 

A  child  in  the  piteous  rain ; 
And  as  he  watched  the  arrow  of  Death, 
He  wailed  for  his  own  shafts  close  in  the  sheath 

That  never  should  fly  again. 

And  now  beneath  the  window  arose 

A  wild  voice  suddenly : 
And  the  King  reared  straight,  but  the  Queen  fell 
back 

As  for  bitter  dule  to  dree; 
And  all  of  us  knew  the  woman's  voice 

Who  spoke  by  the  Scottish  Sea. 

"  O  King,"  she  cried,  "  in  an  evil  hour 
They  drove  me  from  thy  gate; 
And  yet  my  voice  must  rise  to  thine  ears ; 
But  alas !  it  comes  too  late ! 

"  Last  night  at  mid-watch,  by  Aberdour, 
When  the  moon  was  dead  in  the  skies, 
O  King,  in  a  death-light  of  thine  own 
I  saw  thy  shape  arise. 


THE  KING'S  TKAGEDY  127 

"  And  in  full  season,  as  erst  I  said, 
The  doom  had  gained  its  growth ; 
And  the  shroud  had  risen  above  thy  neck 
And  covered  thine  eyes  and  mouth. 

"  And  no  moon  woke,  but  the  pale  dawn  broke. 
And  still  thy  soul  stood  there ; 
And  I  thought  its  silence  cried  to  my  soul 
As  the  first  rays  crowned  its  hair. 

"  Since  then  have  I  journeyed  fast  and  fain 
In  very  despite  of  Fate, 
Lest  Hope  might  still  be  found  iu  God's  will : 
But  they  drove  me  from  thy  gate. 

"  For  every  man  on  God's  ground,  O  King, 
His  death  grows  up  from  his  birth 

In  a  shadow-plant  perpetually; 

And  thine  towers  high,  a  black  yew-tree. 
O'er  the  Charterhouse  of  Perth !  " 

That  room  was  built  far  out  from  the  house ; 

And  none  but  we  in  the  room 
Might  hear  the  voice  that  rose  beneath. 

Nor  the  tread  of  the  coming  doom. 

For  now  there  came  a  torchlight-glare, 

And  a  clang  of  arms  there  came; 
And  not  a  soul  in  that  space  but  thought 

Of  the  foe  Sir  Robert  Graeme. 


128    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Yea,  from  the  country  of  tlie  Wild  Scots, 

O'er  mountain,  valley,  and  glen, 
He  had  brought  with  him  in  murderous  league 

Three  hundred  armed  men. 

The  King  knew  all  in  an  instant's  flash. 

And  like  a  King  did  he  stand ; 
But  there  was  no  armor  in  all  the  room, 

Nor  weapon  lay  to  his  hand. 

And  all  we  women  flew  to  the  door 
And  thought  to  have  made  it  fast ; 

But  the  bolts  were  gone  and  the  bars  were  gone 
And  the  locks  were  riven  and  brast. 

And  he  caught  the  pale  pale  Queen  in  his  arms 

As  the  iron  footsteps  fell, — 
Then  loosed  her,  standing  alone,  and  said, 
"  Our  bliss  was  our  farewell !  " 

And  'twixt  his  lips  he  murmured  a  prayer, 

And  he  crossed  his  brow  and  breast ; 
And  proudly  in  royal  hardihood 
Even  so  with  folded  arms  he  stood, — 
The  prize  of  the  bloody  quest. 

Then  on  me  leaped  the  Queen  like  a  deer: — 
"  O  Catherine,  help !  "  she  cried. 
And  low  at  his  feet  we  clasped  his  knees 
Together  side  by  side. 
"  Oh !  even  a  King,  for  his  people's  sake, 
From  treasonous  death  must  hide ! '' 


THE  KING'S  TRAGEDY  129 

"  For  her  sake  most !  "  I  cried,  aud  I  marked 
The  pang  that  my  words  could  wring. 
And  the  iron  tongs  from  the  chimney-nook 
I  snatched  and  held  to  the  King : — 

"  Wrench  up  the  plank !  and  the  vault  beneath 
Shall  yield  safe  harboring." 

With  brows  low-bent,  from  my  eager  hand 

The  heavy  heft  did  he  take ; 
And  the  plank  at  his  feet  he  wrenched  and  tore ; 
And  as  he  frowned  through  the  open  floor. 

Again  I  said,  "  For  her  sake !  " 

Then  he  cried  to  the  Queen,   "  God's  will  be 
done ! " 

For  her  hands  were  clasped  in  prayer. 
And  down  he  sprang  to  the  inner  crypt; 
And  straight  we  closed  the  plank  he  had  ripp'd 

And  toiled  to  smoothe  it  fair. 

(Alas!  in  that  vault  a  gap  once  was 

Wherethro'  the  King  might  have  fled : 
But  three  days  since  close-walled  had  it  been 
By  his  will ;  for  the  ball  would  roll  therein 
When  without  at  the  palm  he  play'd.) 

Then  the  Queen  cried,  "  Catherine,  keep  the  door. 

And  I  to  this  will  suffice !  " 
At  her  word  I  rose  all  dazed  to  my  feet, 

And  my  heart  was  fire  and  ice. 


130    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

And  louder  ever  the  voices  grew, 

And  the  tramp  of  men  in  mail ; 
Until  to  my  brain  it  seemed  to  be 
As  though  I  tossed  on  a  shiji  at  sea 

In  the  teeth  of  a  crashing  gale. 

Then  back  I  flew  to  the  rest ;  and  hard 

We  strove  with  sinews  knit 
To  force  the  table  against  the  door ; 

But  we  might  not  compass  it. 

Then  my  wild  gaze  sped  far  down  the  hall 
To  the  place  of  the  hearthstone-sill ; 

And  the  Queen  bent  ever  above  the  floor, 
For  the  plank  was  rising  still. 

And  now  the  rush  was  heard  on  the  stair, 
And  "  God,  what  help?  "  was  our  cry. 

And  was  I  frenzied  or  was  I  bold? 

I  looked  at  each  empty  stanchion-hold, 
And  no  bar  but  my  arm  had  I ! 

Like  iron  felt  my  arm,  as  through 

The  staple  I  made  it  pass : — 
Alack !  it  was  flesh  and  bone — no  more ! 
'Twas  Catherine  Douglas  sprang  to  the  door, 

But  I  fell  back  Kate  Barlass. 

With  that  they  all  thronged  into  the  hall, 

Half  dim  to  my  failing  ken ; 
And  the  space  that  was  but  a  void  before 

Was  a  crowd  of  wrathful  men. 


THE  KING'S  TRAGEDY  131 

Behind  the  door  I  had  falFn  and  lay, 

Yet  my  sense  was  wildly  aware, 
And  for  all  the  pain  of  my  shattered  arm 

I  never  fainted  there. 

Even  as  I  fell,  my  eyes  were  cast 

Where  the  King  leaped  down  to  the  pit ; 

And  lo !  the  plank  was  smooth  in  its  place. 
And  the  Queen  stood  far  from  it. 

And  under  the  litters  and  through  the  bed 

And  within  the  presses  all 
The  traitors  sought  for  the  King,  and  pierced 

The  arras  around  the  wall. 

And  through   the   chamber  they   ramped   and 
stormed 

Like  lions  loose  in  the  lair, 
And  scarce  could  trust  to  their  very  eyes, — 

For  behold !  no  King  was  there. 

Then  one  of  them  seized  the  Queen,  and  cried, — 
"  Now  tell  us,  where  is  thy  lord?  " 
And  he  held  the  sharp  point  over  her  heart : 
She  drooped  not  her  eyes  nor  did  she  start, 
But  she  answered  never  a  word. 

Then  the  sword  half  pierced  the  true  true  breast : 

But  it  was  the  Graeme's  own  son 
Cried,  "  This  is  a  woman, — ^we  seek  a  man !  " 

And  away  from  her  girdle-zone 
He  struck  the  point  of  the  murderous  steel ; 

And  that  foul  deed  was  not  done. 


132    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

And  forth  flowed  all  the  throng  like  a  sea, 
And  'twas  empty  space  once  more ; 

And  my  eyes  sought  out  the  wounded  Queen 
As  I  lay  behind  the  door. 

And  I  said :  "  Dear  Lady,  leave  me  here, 

For  I  cannot  help  you  now ; 
But  fly  while  you  may,  and  none  shall  reck 

Of  my  place  here  lying  low." 

And  she  said,  "  My  Catherine,  God  help  thee !  " 
Then  she  looked  to  the  distant  floor, 

And  clasping  her  hands,  "  O  God  help  him" 
She  sobbed,  "  for  we  can  no  more !  " 

But  God  He  knows  what  help  may  mean, 

If  it  mean  to  live  or  to  die ; 
And  what  sore  sorrow  and  mighty  moan 
On  earth  it  may  cost  ere  yet  a  throne 

Be  filled  in  His  house  on  high. 

And  now  the  ladies  fled  with  the  Queen; 

And  through  the  open  door 
The  night-wind  wailed  round  the  empty  room 

And  the  rushes  shook  on  the  floor. 

And  the  bed  drooped  low  in  the  dark  recess 

Whence  the  arras  was  rent  away ; 
And  the  firelight  still  shone  over  the  space 

Where  our  hidden  secret  lay. 


THE  KING'S  TRAGEDY  133 

And  tlie  rain  had  ceased,  and  the  moonbeams  lit 

The  window  high  in  the  wall, — 
Bright  beams  that  on  the  plank  that  I  knew 

Through  the  painted  pane  did  fall 
And  gleamed  with  the  splendor  of  Scotland's 
crown 

And  shield  armorial. 

But  then  a  great  wind  swept  up  the  skies, 

And  the  climbing  moon  fell  back ; 
And  the  royal  blazon  fled  from  the  floor, 

And  nought  remained  on  its  track ; 
And  high  in  the  darkened  window-pane 

The  shield  and  the  crown  were  black. 

And  what  I  say  next  I  partly  saw 

And  partly  I  heard  in  sooth, 
And  partly  since  from  the  murderers'  lips 

The  torture  wrung  the  truth. 

For  now  again  came  the  arm^d  tread, 

And  fast  through  the  hall  it  fell ; 
But  the  throng  was  less ;  and  ere  I  saw, 

By  the  voice  without  I  could  tell 
That  Eobert  Stuart  had  come  with  them 

Who  knew  that  chamber  well. 

And  over  the  space  the  Graeme  strode  dark 

With  his  mantle  round  him  flung; 
And  in  his  eye  was  a  flaming  light 

But  not  a  word  on  his  tongue. 


134    HEROmES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGEND 

And  Stuart  held  a  torch  to  the  floor, 
And  he  found  the  thing  he  sought ; 

And  they  slashed  the  plank  away  with  their 
swords ; 
And  O  God !  I  fainted  not ! 


And  the  traitor  held  his  torch  in  the  gap, 

All  smoking  and  smouldering ; 
And  through  the  vapor  and  fire,  beneath 

In  the  dark  crypt's  narrow  ring, 
With  a  shout  that  pealed  to  the  room's  high  roof 

They  saw  their  naked  King. 


Half  naked  he  stood,  but  stood  as  one 

Who  yet  could  do  and  dare ; 
With  the  crown,  the  King  was  stript  away, — 
The  Knight  was  reft  of  his  battle-array, — 

But  still  the  Man  was  there. 


From  the  rout  then  stepped  a  villain  forth, — 

Sir  John  Hall  was  his  name ; 
With  a  knife  unsheathed  he  leapt  to  the  vault 

Beneath  the  torchlight-flame. 


Of  his  person  and  stature  was  the  King 

A  man  right  manly  strong, 
And  mightily  by  the  shoulder-blades 

His  foe  to  his  feet  he  flung. 


THE  KmG'S  TRAGEDY  135 

Then  tlie  traitor's  brother,  Sir  Thomas  Hall, 

Sprang  down  to  work  his  worst ; 
And  the  iving  caught  the  second  man  by  the  neck 

And  Hung  him  above  the  first. 

AJid  he  smote  and  trampled  them  under  him ; 

And  a  long  month  thence  they  bare 
All  black  their  throats  with  the  grip  of  his  hands 

When  the  hangman's  hand  came  there. 

And  sore  he  strove  to  have  had  their  knives, 
But  the  sharp  blades  gashed  his  hands. 

Oh  James !  so  armed,  thou  hadst  battled  there 
Till  help  had  come  of  thy  bands ; 

And  oh!  once  more  thou  hadst  held  our  throne 
And  ruled  thy  Scottish  lands ! 

But  while  the  King  o'er  his  foes  still  raged 
With  a  heart  that  nought  could  tame. 

Another  man  sprang  down  to  the  crypt ; 

And  with  his  sword  in  his  hand  hard-gripp'd, 
There  stood  Sir  Robert  Graeme. 

(Now  shame  on  the  recreant  traitor's  heart 

Who  durst  not  face  his  King 
Till  the  body  unarmed  was  wearied  out 

With  two-fold  cx)mbating ! 

Ah !  well  might  the  people  sing  and  say, 

As  oft  ye  have  heard  aright : — 
^'  O  Robert  Graeme^  0  Robert  Graeme, 
Who  slew  our  King,  God  give  thee  shame!" 

For  he  slew  him  not  as  a  knight. ) 


136    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

And  the  naked  King  turned  round  at  bay, 
But  his  strength  had  passed  the  goal, 

And  he  could  but  gasp : — "  Mine  hour  is  come ; 

But  oh !  to  succor  thine  own  soul's  doom, 
Let  a  priest  now  shrive  my  soul !  " 

And   the  traitor   looked   on   the   King's   spent 
strength. 

And  said : — "  Have  I  kept  my  word? — 
Yea,  King,  the  mortal  pledge  that  I  gave? 
No  black  friar's  shrift  thy  soul  shall  have. 

But  the  shrift  of  this  red  sword !  " 

With  that  he  smote  his  King  through  the  breast ; 

And  all  they  three  in  that  pen 
Fell  on  him  and  stabbed  and  stabbed  him  there 

Like  merciless  murderous  men. 

Yet  seemed  it  now  that  Sir  Robert  Graeme, 
Ere  the  King's  last  breath  was  o'er. 

Turned  sick  at  heart  with  the  deadly  sight 
And  would  have  done  no  more. 

But  a  cry  came  from  the  troop  above : — 
"  If  him  thou  do  not  slay, 
The  price  of  his  life  that  thou  dost  spare 
Thy  forfeit  life  shall  pay !  " 

O  God !  what  more  did  I  hear  or  see, 

Or  how  should  I  tell  the  rest? 
But  there  at  length  our  King  lay  slain 

With  sixteen  wounds  in  his  breast. 


THE  KING'S  TEAGEDY  137 

O  God !  and  now  did  a  bell  boom  forth, 
And  the  murderers  turned  and  fled ; — 
Too  late,  too  late,  O  God,  did  it  sound! — 
And  I  heard  the  true  men  mustering  round, 
And  the  cries  and  the  coming  tread. 

But  ere  they  came,  to  the  black  death-gap 

Somewise  did  I  creep  and  steal ; 
And  lo !  or  ever  I  swooned  away, 
Through  the  dusk  I  saw  where  the  white  face  lay 

In  the  Pit  of  Fortune's  Wheel. 

And  now,  ye  Scottish  maids  who  have  heard 
Dread  things  of  the  days  grown  old, — 

Even  at  the  last,  of  true  Queen  Jane 
May  somewhat  yet  be  told, 

And  how  she  dealt  for  her  dear  lord's  sake 
Dire  vengeance  manifold. 

'Twas  in  the  Charterhouse  of  Perth, 

In  the  fair-lit  Death-chapelle, 
That  the  slain  King's  corpse  on  bier  was  laid 

With  chaunt  and  requiem-knell. 

And  all  with  royal  wealth  of  balm 

Was  the  body  purified ; 
And  none  could  trace  on  the  brow  and  lips 

The  death  that  he  had  died. 

In  his  robes  of  state  he  lay  asleep 

With  orb  and  sceptre  in  hand ; 
And  by  the  crown  he  wore  on  his  throne 

Was  his  kingly  forehead  spann'd. 


138    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

And,  girls,  'twas  a  sweet  sad  thing  to  see 

How  the  curling  golden  hair, 
As  in  the  day  of  the  poet's  youth. 

From  the  King's  crown  clustered  there. 

And  if  all  had  come  to  pass  in  the  brain 

That  throbbed  beneath  those  curls. 
Then  Scots  had  said  in  the  days  to  come 
That  this  their  soil  was  a  different  home 
And  a  different  Scotland,  girls ! 

And  the  Queen  sat  by  him  night  and  day, 

And  oft  she  knelt  in  prayer. 
All  wan  and  pale  in  the  widow's  veil 

That  shrouded  her  shining  hair. 

And  I  had  got  good  help  of  my  hurt : 

And  only  to  me  some  sign 
She  made;  and  save  the  priests  that  were  there 

No  face  would  she  see  but  mine. 

And  the  month  of  March  wore  on  apace ; 

And  now  fresh  couriers  fared 
Still  from  the  country  of  the  Wild  Scots 

With  news  of  the  traitors  snared. 

And  still,  as  I  told  her  day  by  day. 

Her  pallor  changed  to  sight, 
And  the  frost  grew  to  a  furnace-flame 

That  burnt  her  visage  white. 


THE  KING'S  TRAGEDY  139 

And  evermore  as  I  brought  her  word, 

She  bent  to  her  dead  King  James, 
And  in  the  cold  ear  with  fire-drawn  breath 

She  spoke  the  traitors'  names. 

But  when  the  name  of  Sir  Robert  Graeme 

Was  the  one  she  had  to  give, 
I  ran  to  hold  her  up  from  the  floor ; 
For  the  froth  was  on  her  lips,  and  sore 

I  feared  that  she  could  not  live. 

And  the  month  of  March  wore  nigh  to  its  end. 
And  still  was  the  death-pall  spread; 

For  she  would  not  bury  her  slaughtered  lord 
Till  his  slayers  all  were  dead. 

And  now  of  their  dooms  dread  tidings  came, 

And  of  torments  fierce  and  dire ; 
And    nought    she    spake, — she    had    ceased    to 
speak, — 

But  her  eyes  were  a  soul  on  fire. 

But  when  I  told  her  the  bitter  end 

Of  the  stern  and  just  award. 
She  leaned  o'er  the  bier,  and  thrice  three  times 

She  kissed  the  lips  of  her  lord. 

And  then  she  said, — "  My  King,  they  are  dead !  '* 

And  she  knelt  on  the  chapel-floor. 
And  whispered  low  with  a  strange  proud  smile, — 
"  James,  James,  they  suffered  more !  " 


14:0    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Last  slie  stood  up  to  her  queenly  heiglit, 

But  she  shook  like  an  autumn  leaf, 
As  though  the  fire  wherein  she  burned 
Then  left  her  body,  and  all  were  turned 
To  winter  of  life-long  grief. 

And  "  O  James !  "  she  said, — "  My  James !  "  she 

said, — 
"  Alas  for  the  wof ul  thing, 
That  a  poet  true  and  a  friend  of  man, 
In  desperate  days  of  bale  and  ban. 
Should  needs  be  born  a  King ! " 


LITTLE  ROSAMOKD 

A  Legend  of  Kenilworth  Castle 
Grace  Greenwood 

It  was  the  evening  of  tlie  day  set  for  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's visit  to  Kenilworth.  Great  multitudes  of 
people  had  been  for  many  hours  assembled  on  the 
walls,  in  the  chase,  and  park  and  gardens,  to  wit- 
ness the  splendid  sight.  But  her  majesty  had  been 
detained  till  twilight  at  Warwick  to  receive  the 
homage  of  her  subjects,  and  now  it  was  announced 
that  the  grand  entrance  would  be  made  by  torch- 
light. At  length  the  great  bell  of  the  castle  tolled, 
and  a  single  rocket  shot  up  into  the  air.  Then  all 
held  their  breath  and  listened.  At  first,  they  could 
only  hear  a  dull,  sea-like  sound  in  the  direction  of 
Warwick  Castle;  but  it  came  nearer  and  grew 
louder,  till  they  could  distinguish  the  tramp  of 
horses,  music  and  shouting,  and  the  clang  of  armor. 

When  the  Queen  entered  the  royal  chase,  hun- 
dreds of  great  rockets  were  sent  blazing  and  hissing 
into  the  sky ;  and  such  a  mighty  shout  was  set  up 
by  the  multitude  that  it  was  almost  a  wonder  it 
didn't  jostle  the  stars  out  of  their  places.  Yet  they 
did  not  seem  at  all  disturbed  by  the  tumult,  but 
stayed  quietly  in  their  orbits,  and  winked  at  one 
another,  as  though  making  fun  of  the  Earl's  fire- 
works.   The  whole  music  of  the  castle  burst  forth ; 

141 


142    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

then  there  was  a  round  of  artillery  and  a  tremen- 
dous discharge  of  blunderbusses. 

The  stately  f)rocession,  illuminated  by  two  hun- 
dred great  wax  torches,  borne  by  armed  horsemen, 
moved  slowly  from  the  gate  of  the  park. 

The  Queen,  who  was  young  at  that  time,  and, 
though  not  handsome,  was  noble  and  grand  look- 
ing, came  mounted  on  a  beautiful  milk-white  horse, 
which  she  managed  very  well;  for  she  was  an  ad- 
mirable rider.  She  was  dressed  in  the  richest  silks, 
velvet  and  lace ;  and  from  head  to  foot  she  seemed 
almost  blazing  with  costly  jewels.  Beside  the 
Queen  rode  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  on  a  jet-black 
steed,  one  of  the  handsomest  in  the  world,  with 
silver  bits  and  trappings  of  velvet  and  gold.  The 
Earl  was  gorgeously  dressed,  and  glittered  all  over 
with  gold  and  gems.  He  sat  his  horse  so  elegantly, 
and  was  so  proud  in  his  bearing,  that  he  might  have 
been  mistaken  for  a  King  had  he  not  ridden  bare- 
headed like  the  rest  of  the  courtiers.  After  the 
Queen  and  the  Earl  followed  a  train  of  noblemen 
and  ladies,  guards,  pages,  knights,  gentlemen  and 
soldiers — a  long  and  splendid  cavalcade.  On  either 
side  stood  a  line  of  people,  closely  packed  together, 
all  bowing  and  shouting  their  loyal  welcomes. 

As  the  Queen  was  approaching  the  outer  tower 
she  checked  her  horse  to  speak  to  one  of  her  ladies ; 
when  suddenly  there  broke,  or  rather  slid,  through 
the  line  of  soldiers,  a  little  girl,  who  flung  herself 
at  her  majesty's  feet  and  grasped  her  robe,  crying : 

"  A  boon !    Great  Queen,  a  boon !  " 


LITTLE  EOSAMOND  143 

A  rude  soldier  strode  forward  and  lifted  liis 
broadsword  over  the  head  of  the  child ;  when,  quick 
as  a  flash,  a  boy,  scarcely  larger  than  the  girl, 
leaped  out  of  the  crowd,  and  snatched  the  sword 
from  the  soldier's  hand,  saying,  boldly : 

"  Thou  art  a  cowardly  knave !  " 

The  man  turned  upon  hiin  in  rage,  caught  back 
the  sword,  and  might  have  killed  him  with  it,  had 
not  the  Queen  cried : 

"  Hold,  villain !  By  my  faith,  I  think  the  lad  is 
right!  Wouldst  butcher  babes  like  these?  Then 
art  thou  one  of  King  Herod's  men,  and  none  of 
ours.     Stand  back !  " 

Then,  turning  her  eyes  on  the  little  girl,  who 
stood  trembling  at  her  side,  she  looked  at  her  a  mo- 
ment in  silent  surprise.  And  well  she  might;  for 
the  child  was  as  beautiful  as  an  angel.  She  could 
scarcely  have  been  more  than  ten  years  of  age.  She 
was  very  fair  and  delicate,  with  a  tender,  appealing 
face,  and  a  voice  sweet,  but  mournful,  like  the 
sound  of  a  wind-harp.  She  had  large,  dark  eyes, 
with  long  heavy  lashes;  but  her  eyebrows  were  a 
shade  lighter;  and  her  hair,  which  was  soft  and 
wavy,  was  of  a  rich,  golden  hue.  Now  tears  were 
flashing  in  her  eyes;  her  red  lips  were  quivering; 
her  cheek  was  brightly  flushed;  her  hair  gently 
lifted  from  her  forehead  by  the  evening  wind ;  and, 
in  her  simple  white  frock,  she  looked  there,  under 
the  torchlight,  so  like  a  radiant  little  seraph  that 
the  stern  Queen  spoke  softly  to  her,  almost  as 
though  in  fear,  saying : 


144    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

"Who  art  thou?  and  what  wouldst  thou  with 
me?  " 

"  My  name  is  Rosamond  Vere,"  answered  the 
child ;  "  and  I  come  to  put  this  petition  into  your 
own  hands,  and  to  beseech  your  majesty  to  grant 
the  prayer  of  a  poor  motherless  little  girl,  who  will 
pray  to  God  for  you  every  night  and  morning  as 
long  as  she  lives." 

The  Queen  smiled  graciously  and  took  the  paper, 
but  said : 

"  This  is  no  time  or  place  to  read  petitions,  child. 
Come  to  the  castle  to-morrow,  at  the  hour  of  twelve, 
and  we  will  give  thee  audience.  But  tell  me,  who 
is  thy  brave  young  champion?  By  my  soul,  he  hath 
a  right  gallant  spirit !  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  your  majesty.  I  never  saw  him 
before,"  said  Rosamond. 

The  boy  of  whom  they  spoke  had  gone  back 
among  the  spectators;  but  on  hearing  these  words 
he  stepped  modestly  forward.  He  was  a  handsome 
lad,  with  deep,  dark,  beaming  eyes,  and  a  sort  of 
grand  look  about  his  forehead,  which  made  him 
seem,  for  all  his  plain,  peasant  dress,  nobler  than 
any  young  lord  or  duke  in  all  that  cavalcade. 

The  Queen  smiled  on  him,  and  said : 

"Well,  young  rash-head,  what  art  thou 
called?" 

"  William  Shakespeare,  may  it  please  your  maj- 
esty." 

"  Marry,  a  good  name,  and  an  honest — and  thou 
art  a  brave  lad.    Doubtless  we  shall  hear  of  thee 


LITTLE  KOSAMOND  145 

when  thou  art  a  man.  But  now  away  with  ye  both ; 
for  it  is  late  for  such  chicks  to  be  abroad." 

Then  she  loosened  the  reins  of  her  horse  and  rode 
forward  with  Leicester;  and  all  the  procession 
moved  on  again.  They  passed  through  the  tower, 
over  the  bridge,  and  entered  the  castle,  with  an- 
other peal  of  music  and  discharge  of  artillery,  and 
such  a  terrific  irruption  of  rockets  that  some  of  the 
country-women  shrieked  with  fright,  thinking  that 
the  castle  and  all  the  great  folks  in  it  were  being 
blown  into  atoms;  some  even  fancying  that  they 
saw  the  Queen  on  her  white  horse  riding  straight 
up  into  the  air. 

Rosamond  Vere  went  away  to  Warwick  with 
some  friends,  and  William  Shakespeare  went  home 
to  Stratford  with  his  father  and  mother.  They 
drove  in  a  rough  little  wagon;  for  in  those  days 
only  kings  and  nobles  had  carriages.  William  sat 
on  a  bag  of  wool  behind  his  parents.  His  head  was 
full  of  the  splendors  he  had  seen,  and  his  heart  beat 
high  and  fast  with  pride  because  of  the  Queen's 
praise.  He  was  greatly  excited;  but  he  was  tired 
also;  and  when  they  reached  home,  he  was  found 
fast  asleep  on  the  wool-bag. 

The  next  day,  when  little  Rosamond  presented 
herself  at  the  castle,  she  was  at  once  admitted  and 
conducted  to  an  anteroom,  w^here  she  had  a  few 
minutes  to  wait.  She  met  there  an  elegant  young 
courtier,  one  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  who  kindly  in- 
structed her  how  to  conduct  herself  before  the 
Queen.     Above  all  things,  he  told  her  she  must  re- 


146    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

member  never  to  turn  her  back  on  her  majesty ;  but, 
when  she  was  dismissed,  to  go  out  backwards,  and 
Rosamond  promised  to  do  as  he  bade  her. 

Just  at  twelve  she  was  summoned  by  the  Lord 
Chamberlain  to  the  great  hall,  where  the  Queen  was 
holding  court.  She  was  seated  on  a  throne,  under 
a  canopy  of  state.  She  wore  her  crown,  and  a  dress 
of  rich  velvet,  soft  blue  like  the  sky.  It  was  cov- 
ered with  white  lace  so  fine  that  it  looked  like  light 
clouds,  and  was  looped  up  with  great  diamonds, 
that  shone  like  stars. 

After  having  been  conducted  to  the  foot  of  the 
throne,  Rosamond  knelt  there,  and  looked  up  tim- 
idly into  her  majesty's  face.  Alas !  it  was  clouded 
with  a  frown. 

"And  so,"  exclaimed  the  Queen,  "thou  art  the 
daughter  of  that  Walter  Vere  who  lately  conspired 
with  other  traitors  to  set  our  prisoner,  Mary  of 
Scotland,  free !  He  hath  deserved  death ;  and  death 
he  shall  have !  " 

"  Oh,  have  mercy,  gracious  madam !  "  cried  Rosa- 
mond, "  my  poor  father  had  a  tender  heart ;  and  the 
Queen  of  the  Scots  moved  it  by  her  tears  and  her 
beauty.  Oh,  she  is  so  beautiful,  if  your  grace  would 
see  her,  you  would  have  pity  on  her  also." 

Queen  Elizabeth  blushed  deeply,  for  she  knew  in 
her  heart  that  she  was  envious  of  Mary  Stuart's 
beauty ;  and  she  said,  more  sternly  than  before : 

"Thy  father  hath  acted  traitorously,  and  must 
abide  his  sentence.     Go,  child !  " 

But  Rosamond,  instead  of  rising,  took  from  her 


LITTLE  ROSAMOND  147 

bosom  a  small  package  and  placed  it  in  the  Queen's 
hand.  It  was  a  paper  containing  a  ring.  On  the 
paper  was  written  the  name  of  Walter  Vere,  and  a 
verse  of  Scripture,  signed  "Anne  R."  On  the  ring 
was  engraved  a  crest,  the  arms  of  the  Boleyns. 

Queen  Elizabeth  turned  pale  as  she  examined 
these,  and  hastily  asked : 

"  Where  got  you  this?    And  this?    Speak,  girl !  " 

"  My  father,"  answered  Rosamond,  "  was  an  of- 
ficer in  the  Tower  at  the  time  the  Queen,  your 
mother,  was  imprisoned  there.  He  was  good  to 
her ;  and  the  night  before  she  was  beheaded  she  gave 
him  these  mementos." 

Elizabeth's  face  softened,  and  a  tear  shone  for  a 
moment  in  her  cold,  gray  eye,  but  did  not  fall ;  then 
she  spoke : 

"  For  her  memory's  sake  we  grant  thy  prayer. 
We  forgive  thy  father ;  but  let  him  see  to  it  how  he 
again  braves  our  ire." 

She  then  wrote  an  order  for  the  immediate  libera- 
tion of  Walter  Vere,  stating  that  she  had  granted 
him  a  full  pardon.  This  paper  she  was  about  to 
give  into  the  hands  of  an  offtcer,  to  be  conveyed  to 
London ;  but  Rosamond  begged  that  she  might  carry 
it  herself;  and  the  Queen,  kindly  assenting,  placed 
her  under  the  charge  of  the  officer,  requesting  him, 
with  her  own  lips,  to  be  kind  to  the  child.  She  ex- 
tended her  beautiful  hand  to  Rosamond,  who  kissed 
it  fervently,  but  was  too  much  overcome  with  joy 
and  thankfulness  to  speak  a  word  more.  She  rose 
up  so  bewildered,  and  in  such  haste  to  set  out  on 


148    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

her  journey,  tliat  she  quite  forgot  Sir  Walter  Ra- 
leigh's injunctions,  and,  turning  her  back  on  the 
Queen,  actually  ran  out  of  the  hall,  much  to  the 
merriment  of  the  gay  court. 

The  rest  of  Rosamond's  story  is  soon  told.  She 
went  to  London  and  freed  her  father,  who  never  got 
into  any  trouble  of  the  kind  again.  She  grew  to  be 
a  beautiful  woman,  married  a  country  gentleman, 
and  lived  for  many  years  far  from  the  great  world, 
but  happy  and  beloved,  because  always  good  and 
loving. 


HELEN    OF    KIRKCONNELL 

Scottish  Ballad 

I  WISH  I  were  where  Helen  lies ! 
Night  and  day  on  me  she  cries ; 
O  that  I  were  where  Helen  lies, 
On  fair  Kirkconnell  lee ! 

Curst  be  the  heart  that  thought  the  thought, 
And  curst  the  hand  that  fired  the  shot. 
When  in  my  arms  burd  Helen  dropt, 
And  died  to  succor  me ! 

0  think  ye  na  my  heart  was  sair, 

When  my  love  dropt  down  and  spake  nae  mair ! 
There  did  she  swoon  wi'  meikle  care, 
On  fair  Kirkconnell  lee. 

As  I  went  down  the  water  side, 
None  but  my  foe  to  be  my  guide, 
None  but  my  foe  to  be  my  guide, 
On  fair  Kirkconnell  lee — 

1  lighted  down,  my  sword  did  draw, 
I  hacked  him  in  pieces  sma', 

I  hacked  him  in  pieces  sma\ 

For  her  sake  that  died  for  me. 
149 


150    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

O  Helen  fair,  beyond  compare ! 
I'll  weave  a  garland  of  thj  hair 
Shall  bind  my  heart  for  evermair, 
Until  the  day  I  dee ! 

O  that  I  were  where  Helen  lies ! 
Night  and  day  on  me  she  cries ; 
Out  of  my  bed  she  bids  me  rise, 

Says,  "  Haste,  and  come  to  me !  " 

0  Helen  fair !     O  Helen  chaste ! 
Were  I  with  thee  I  would  be  blest, 
Where  thou  lies  low  and  takes  thy  rest, 

On  fair  Kirkconnell  lee. 

1  wish  my  grave  were  growing  green ; 
A  winding-sheet  drawn  o'er  my  e'en, 
And  I  in  Helen's  arms  lying 

On  fair  Kirkconnell  lee. 

I  would  I  were  where  Helen  lies ! 
Night  and  day  on  me  she  cries. 
And  I  am  weary  of  the  skies, 

For  her  sake  that  died  for  me ! 


MARY   AMBREE 

English  Ballad 

When  captains  coui'ageous,  whom  deatli  could 

not  daunt, 
Did  marcli  to  the  siege  of  the  city  of  Gaunt, 
They  muster'd  their  soldiers  by  two  and  by  three, 
And  the  foremost  in  battle  was  Mary  Ambree. 

WTien  the  brave  sergeant-major  was  slain  in  her 

sight, 
Who  was  her  true  lover,  her  joy  and  delight, 
Because  he  was  slain  most  treacherouslie, 
Then  vowed  to  revenge  him  Mary  Ambree. 

She  clothed  herself  from  the  top  to  the  toe 
In  buff  of  the  bravest,  most  seemly  to  show ; 
A  fair  shirt  of  mail  then  slipped  on  she ; 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

A  helmet  of  proof  she  straight  did  provide, 
A  strong  arming  sword  she  girt  by  her  side ; 
On  her  hand  a  goodly  fair  gauntlet  put  she : 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

Then  took  she  her  sword  and  her  target  in  hand, 
Bidding  all  such,  as  would,  to  be  of  her  band ; 
To  wait  on  her  person  came  thousand  and  three : 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 
151 


152    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

"  My  soldiers,"  she  saith,  "  so  valiant  and  bold, 
Now  follow  your  captain,  whom  you  do  behold ; 
Still  foremost  in  battle  myself  will  I  be :  " 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

Then  cried  out  her  soldiers,  and  loud  they  did 
say, 
"  So  well  thou  becomest  this  gallant  array, 
Thy  heart  and  thy  weapons  so  well  do  agree, 
No  maiden  was  ever  like  Mary  Ambree." 

She  cheered  her  soldiers,  that  foughten  for  life, 
With  ancient  and  standard,  with  drum  and  with 

fife. 
With  brave  clanging  trumpets,  that  sounded  so 

free; 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

"  Before  I  will  see  the  worst  of  you  all 
To  come  into  danger  of  death  or  of  thrall. 
This  hand  and  this  life  I  will  venture  so  free :  " 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

She  led  up  her  soldiers  in  battle  array, 

Gainst  three  times  their  number  by  break  of  the 

day: 
Seven  hours  in  skirmish  continued  she : 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

She  filled  the  skies  with  the  smoke  of  her  shot, 
And  her  enemies'  bodies  with  bullets  so  hot ; 
For  one  of  hor  own  men  a  score  killed  she : 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 


MARY  AMBREE  153 

And  when  her  false  gunner,  to  spoil  her  intent, 
Away  all  her  pellets  and  powder  had  sent, 
Straight  with  her  keen  weapon  she  slasht  him  in 

three : 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

Being  falsely  betrayed  for  lucre  of  hire, 
At  length  she  was  forced  to  make  a  retire ; 
Then  her  soldiers  into  a  strong  castle  drew  she : 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

Her  foes  they  beset  her  on  every  side. 
As  thinking  close  siege  she  could  never  abide ; 
To  beat  down  the  walls  they  all  did  decree : 
But  stoutly  defied  them  brave  Mary  Ambree. 

Then  took  she  her  sword  and  her  target  in  hand, 
And  mounting  the  walls  all  undaunted  did  stand. 
There  daring  their  captains  to  match  any  three : 
O  what  a  brave  captain  was  Mary  Ambree ! 

"Now  say,  English  captain,  what  wouldest  thou 
give 
To  ransom  thyself,  which  else  must  not  live? 
Come  yield  thyself  quickly,  or  slain  thou  must 

be:" 
Then  smiled  sweetly  brave  Mary  Ambree. 

"  Ye  captains  courageous,  of  valor  so  bold, 
Whom  think  you  before  you  now  you  do  behold?  " 

"  A  knight,  sir,  of  England,  and  captain  so  free. 
Who  shortly  with  us  a  prisoner  must  be." 


154    HEROmES  OF  HISTORY  ANT>  LEGEND 

"  No  captain  of  England :  behold  in  your  sight 
Two   breasts   in  my  bosom,   and  therefore  no 

knight ; 
No  knight,  sir,  of  England,  nor  captain  you  see, 
But  a  poor  simple  maiden  called  Mary  Ambree." 

"  But  art  thou  a  woman,  as  thou  dost  declare. 
Whose  valor  hath  proved  so  undaunted  in  war? 
If  England  doth  yield  such  brave  maidens  as  thee, 
Full  well  may  they  conquer,  fair  Mary  Ambree." 

The  Prince  of  Great  Parma  heard  of  her  renown, 
Who  long  had  advanced  for  England's  fair  crown ; 
He  wooed  her  and  sued  her  his  mistress  to  be. 
And  offered  rich  presents  to  Mary  Ambree. 

But  this  virtuous  maiden  despised  them  all : 
"  I'll  ne'er  sell  my  honor  for  pur^^le  nor  paU ; 
A  maiden  of  England,  sir,  never  will  be 
The  wench  of  a  monarch,"  quoth  Mary  Ambree. 

Then  to  her  own  country  she  back  did  return, 
Still  holding  the  foes  of  fair  England  in  scorn; 
Therefore  English  captains  of  every  degree 
Sing  forth  the  brave  valors  of  Mary  Ambree. 


POCAHONTAS 

William  Makepeace  Thackeray 

Wearied  arm  and  broken  sword 
Wage  in  vain  the  desperate  fight: 

Round  him  press  a  countless  horde ; 
He  is  but  a  single  knight. 

Hark !  a  cry  of  triumph  shrill 
Through  the  wilderness  resounds, 
As,  with  twenty  bleeding  wounds. 

Sinks  the  warrior,  fighting  still. 

Now  they  heap  the  fatal  pyre. 
And  the  torch  of  death  they  light ; 

Ah!  'tis  hard  to  die  of  fire ! 

Who  will  shield  the  captive  knight? 

Round  the  stake  with  fiendish  cry 
Wheel  and  dance  the  savage  crowd. 
Cold  the  victim's  mien,  and  proud. 

And  his  breast  is  bared  to  die. 

Who  will  shield  the  fearless  heart? 

Who  avert  the  murderous  blade? 

From  the  throng,  with  sudden  start, 

See  there  springs  an  Indian  maid. 

Quick  she  stands  before  the  Imight : 

"  Loose  the  chain,  unbind  the  ring ; 

I  am  daughter  of  the  King, 
And  I  claim  the  Indian  right! " 
155 


156    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Daimtlessly  aside  she  flings 
Lifted  axe  and  thirsty  knife ; 

Fondly  to  his  heart  she  clings, 
And  her  bosom  guards  his  life! 

In  the  woods  of  Powhatan, 
Still  'tis  told  by  Indian  fires, 
How  a  daughter  of  their  sires 

Saved  the  captive  Englishman. 


''*???  "f„'K?*'?-"'.fj4 


Pocahontas. 


HOW  THE  MOHAWKS  SET  OUT  FOR 
MEDOCTEC 

A  Melicite  Legend 

Charles  G.  D.  Roberts 

I 
Grows  the  great  deed,  though  none 
Shout  to  behold  it  done ! 
To  the  brave  deed  done  by  night 
Heaven  testifies  in  the  light. 

Stealthy  and  swift  as  a  dream, 
Crowding  the  breast  of  the  stream, 
In  their  paint  and  plumes  of  war 
And  their  war-canoes  four  score, 

They  are  threading  the  Oolastook, 
Where  his  cradling  hills  o'erlook. 
The  branchy  thickets  hide  them ; 
The  unstartled  waters  guide  them. 

II 

Comes  night  to  the  quiet  hills 
Where  the  Madawaska  spills, — 
To  his  slumbering  huts  no  warning, 
Nor  mirth  of  another  morning ! 
157 


158    HEROINES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGEND 

No  more  shall  the  children  wake 

As  the  dawns  through  the  hut-door  break ; 

But  the  dogs,  a  trembling  pack, 

With  wistful  eyes  steal  back. 

And,  to  pilot  the  noiseless  foe 
Through  the  perilous  passes,  go 
Two  women  who  could  not  die — 
Whom  the  knife  in  the  dark  passed  by. 

Ill 

Where  the  shoaling  waters  froth, 
Churned  thick  like  devils'  broth, — 
Where  the  rocky  shark-jaw  waits, 
Never  a  bark  that  grates. 

And  the  tearless  captives'  skill 
Contents  them.     Onward  still! 
And  the  low-voiced  captives  tell 
The  tidings  that  cheer  them  well : 

How  a  clear  stream  leads  them  down 
Well-nigh  to  Medoctec  town, 
Ere  to  the  great  Falls'  thunder 
The  long  wall  yawns  asunder. 

IV 

The  clear  stream  glimmers  before  them ; 
The  faint  night  falters  o'er  them ; 
Lashed  lightly  bark  to  bark. 
They  glide  the  windless  dark. 


THE  MOHAWKS  159 

Late  grows  the  night.    No  fear 
While  the  skilful  captives  steer ! 
Sleeps  the  tired  warrior,  sleeps 
The  chief ;  and  the  river  creeps. 

V 

In  the  town  of  the  Melicite 
The  unjarred  peace  is  sweet, 
Green  grows  the  corn  and  great, 
And  the  hunt  is  fortunate. 

This  many  a  heedless  year 
The  Mohawks  come  not  near. 
The  lodge-gate  stands  unbarred; 
Scarce  even  a  dog  keeps  guard. 

No  mother  shrieks  from  a  dream 
Of  blood  on  the  threshold  stream, — 
But  the  thought  of  those  mute  guides 
Is  where  the  sleeper  bides ! 

VI 

Gets  forth  those  caverned  walls 
No  roar  from  the  giant  Falls, 
Whose  mountainous  foam  treads  under 
The  abyss  of  awful  thunder. 

But  the  river's  sudden  speed ! 
How  the  ghost-grey  shores  recede ! 
And  the  tearless  pilots  hear 
A  muttering  voice  creep  near. 


160     HEEOmES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

A  tremor !     The  blanched  waves  leap. 
The  warriors  start  from  sleep. 
Faints  in  the  sudden  blare 
The  cry  of  their  swift  despair, 

And  the  captives'  death-chant  shrills. 
But  afar,  remote  from  ills, 
Quiet  under  the  quiet  skies 
The  Melicite  village  lies. 


ALICE  VANE 

A  Legend  of  Nottingham  Castle 
Grace  Greenwood 

Old  Nottingliam  Castle,  a  famous  stronghold  of 
the  early  kings  of  England,  was  built  on  a  high 
rock,  overlooking  the  beautiful  vale  of  Belvoir,  the 
hills  of  Leicestershire,  Nottinghamshire  wolds  and 
the  silvery  windings  of  the  river  Trent.  At  the 
base  of  the  great  rock  glides  the  little  river  Leen. 

Little  is  left  now  of  the  old  castle,  but  the  rock 
underneath  is  curiously  perforated  in  every  direc- 
tion by  winding  passages  and  small  caverns, 
some  formed  by  Nature,  but  most,  it  is  supposed, 
hewn  out  of  the  solid  stone  by  an  ancient  heathen 
priesthood  of  Britain  called  Druids.  They  sacri- 
ficed hiunan  victims  to  their  deity,  and  made  use  of 
these  caves  as  vaults  for  dead  bodies  of  those  they 
had  murdered  in  a  pious  way,  or  as  prisons  for  such 
refractory  men  and  women  as  objected  to  their  par- 
ticular part  in  the  bloody  religious  ceremony;  at 
least,  so  we  are  told  by  antiquarians. 

King  John,  the  bad  brother  of  Richard  the  Lion- 
hearted,  frequently  held  his  court  at  Nottingham; 
and  it  was  the  chosen  abode  of  the  beautiful  Queen 
Isabella,  wife  of  Edward  the  Second.  The  unfor- 
tunate Charles  the  First,  in  his  war  with  Oliver 

161 


162    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Cromwell  and  the  Parliament,  hoisted  his  banner 
on  the  highest  turret  of  the  castle  and  with  his  own 
hand  set  up  his  royal  standard  on  a  hill  near  by. 
A  great  storm  arose  and  blew  it  down  that  very 
night,  which  was  taken  by  the  superstitious  people 
for  a  fearful  omen ;  and  when,  a  few  years  after,  the 
poor  King  was  brought  to  Nottingham  Castle,  on 
his  way  to  Holmby,  in  Northamptonshire,  a  power- 
less prisoner,  everybody  said,  "  I  told  you  so." 

For  several  years  during  the  period  of  the  great 
civil  war  between  the  Royalists  and  Republicans, 
one  Colonel  John  Hutchinson  was  Governor  of  Not- 
tingham Castle,  holding  it  for  Cromwell  and  the 
Parliament.  It  was  a  very  important  fortress  and 
the  Royalists  tried  every  means  in  their  power  to 
get  possession  of  it.  The  Earl  of  Newcastle  offered 
a  bribe  of  ten  thousand  pounds  to  Colonel  Hutchin- 
son to  betray  it  into  his  hands;  but  the  gallant 
Colonel  repelled  the  offer  with  manly  indignation. 

When  Colonel  Hutchinson  went  to  take  command 
of  the  fortress  at  Nottingham,  he  took  with  him  his 
young  wife,  a  very  clever  and  spirited  woman. 
During  the  last  year  of  her  stay  in  the  castle  Mrs. 
Hutchinson  had  under  her  care  a  little  orphan  niece 
by  the  name  of  Alice  Vane,  a  beautiful,  dark-eyed, 
sad  and  silent  child. 

Alice  was  but  a  baby,  too  young  to  grieve,  when 
her  gentle  mother  died;  but  within  this  year  she 
had  lost  her  father  and  her  only  brother,  both  of 
whom  had  been  killed  at  the  bloody  battle  of 
Naseby.     She  had  dearly  loved  her  noble  father, 


ALICE  VANE  163 

who,  stern  as  lie  was  among  men,  was  always  mild 
and  tender  toward  her;  but  she  had  utterly  idol- 
ized her  brave  brother  Walter,  so  beautiful,  so 
young;  for  he  was  only  seventeen  the  day  of  the 
battle  in  which  he  fell. 

Alice  grieved  so  bitterly  for  the  loss  of  these  dear 
ones  that  her  health  suffered.  She  grew  very  pale 
and  thin ;  and,  when  she  was  brought  to  her  aunt  at 
Nottingham,  it  was  said  that  she  looked  more  like 
a  sorroAvful  little  spirit  than  like  a  flesh-and-blood 
child.  She  was  a  strange,  shy,  melancholy  girl, 
who  in  the  midst  of  her  grief  was  seldom  seen  to 
weep,  but  always  sought  some  lonely  and  silent 
place  in  which  to  indulge  her  sorrow.  She  was  a 
true  Puritan,  plain  in  speech  and  manner,  but 
always  brave  and  truthful  in  heart. 

One  day,  soon  after  she  came  to  Nottingham,  she 
was  allowed  to  descend  with  the  warden  into  those 
curious  caves  and  passages  underneath  the  castle. 
These  she  explored  with  much  interest,  as  she  had 
an  adventurous,  inquiring  spirit;  and  she  fixed 
upon  one  little  cave,  feebly  lit  by  a  fissure  in  the 
rock,  opening  out  to  the  day,  for  her  own.  She  per- 
suaded her  kind  friends  to  allow  her  to  spend  an 
hour  or  two  every  day  here,  taking  with  her  some  of 
her  books  and  playthings. 

She  loved  to  escape  to  this  quiet  spot,  from  the 
sound  of  endless  praying  and  psalm-singing  and  re- 
ligious discussions,  which  she  could  not  understand, 
from  the  clang  of  muskets  and  the  noise  of  rude  sol- 
diers, to  read  her  little  Bible,  to  repeat  her  hymns 


164    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

and  the  simple  prayers  lier  father  had  taught  her, 
to  think  of  him  and  her  darling  brother,  and  to 
weep  for  them,  without  being  told  that  it  was  sinf id 
rebellion  against  Grod  to  mourn  for  those  He  had 
taken  to  Himself. 

One  sunny  day,  when  the  light  in  her  cave  was 
unusually  clear,  Alice  noticed  that  the  wall  in  one 
corner  did  not  seem  of  solid  rock,  but  was  formed 
of  stones  piled  one  upon  another. 

Little  girls  were  as  curious  two  hundred  years 
ago  as  they  are  nowadays.  So  Alice  went  to  work 
at  once,  pulling  and  heaving  with  all  her  might; 
and  at  last  the  stones  gave  way,  one  after  another, 
and  she  saw  that  they  had  hid  a  small,  low  passage, 
leading  directly  down  to  the  river  Leen. 

All  was  dark  at  first;  but  after  a  moment  there 
was  a  little  gleaming  of  sunlight  and  green  leaves 
at  the  farther  end  of  the  passage.  This  was  charm- 
ing, after  being  so  long  confined  to  the  courtyard  of 
a  castle,  to  be  able  to  sit  under  the  shade  of  the 
thick  shrubbery,  on  the  banks  of  that  pretty  stream, 
to  gather  flowers  and  put  her  feet  in  the  water,  and 
remember  pleasant  old  times!  So  she  lost  not  a 
moment;  but,  gathering  her  frock  about  her,  and 
crouching  low,  she  groped  her  way  carefully  down- 
ward and  stole  out  into  the  sunshine.  She  found 
that  the  mouth  of  the  passage  was  completely  hid 
on  the  outside  by  bushes,  and  that  she,  as  she  sat 
herself  down  on  a  bank,  sweet  with  violets  and 
bright  with  cowslips,  could  not  be  seen  from  the 
plain  below,  or  the  castle  above. 


ALICE  VANE  165 

As  she  sat  there,  listening  to  the  birds  and  won- 
dering why  it  was  that  they  never  seemed  to  be  sing- 
ing solemn  songs  like  the  Puritans,  never  seemed  to 
be  preaching  or  rebuking,  but  always  trying  to  cheer 
her  heart  with  notes  of  joy  and  little  melodious 
laughters — so  sweet,  so  tender,  as  though  they  were 
loving  aloud, — her  eye  caught  something  gleaming 
through  the  foliage  near  by,  which  she  took  for  a 
bunch  of  scarlet  poppies.  But,  going  nearer,  she 
found  that  it  was  the  end  of  a  silken  scarf;  and, 
putting  aside  some  bushes,  she  saw  that  this  was  a 
part  of  the  dress  of  a  young  man,  who  was  lying 
asleep  close  against  the  rock. 

He  was  a  Cavalier.  Alice  knew  it  at  once  by  his 
rich  velvet  doublet,  his  plumed  and  jeweled  hat  and 
his  long  curls.  The  scarlet  scarf  she  had  first  no- 
ticed was  bound  about  his  right  arm;  and  Alice 
now  saw  that  it  and  the  lace  ruffles  at  his  wrist 
were  deeply  stained  with  blood.  He  was  a  very 
handsome,  gallant-looking  young  man,  but  so 
deathly  pale,  and  with  so  much  suffering  in  his 
face,  that  Alice  pitied  him ;  and,  like  the  good,  brave 
girl  she  was,  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and 
shook  him  gently,  to  waken  him.  He  sprang  up 
instantly  and  half  drew  his  sword.  Alice  did  not 
scream;  she  scarcely  moved,  but  said  very  calmly, 
"  It  is  only  I,  a  little  girl.  What  can  I  do  for  you, 
Sir  Cavalier?  " 

The  young  man  looked  at  her  doubtfully  at  first 
and  questioned  her  closely ;  but  when  he  found  that 
she  was  quite  alone,   and  that  she  gave  frank, 


166    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

straightforward  answers,  lie  confided  in  her  and 
begged  her  to  help  him.  He  was  a  nobleman,  Lord 
Villiers,  in  the  service  of  the  King.  He  had  been 
wounded  the  night  before,  in  a  skirmish,  near  the 
castle,  by  a  deep  sword-cut  in  the  arm,  and  stunned 
by  a  fall  from  his  horse.  His  men,  who  were  de- 
feated, had  left  him  for  dead;  but  he  had  revived, 
and  in  the  early  morning  had  dragged  himself  to 
this  spot,  where  he  had  hid,  hoping  to  be  able  to 
escape  that  night  to  some  place  of  safety.  But  now, 
he  said,  he  found  himself  so  weak  from  pain,  loss  of 
blood,  and  want  of  food,  that  he  doubted  whether 
he  could  walk  at  all.  Alice  advised  him  to  yield 
himself  up  as  a  prisoner  of  war  at  the  castle;  but 
he  swore  an  oath,  that  made  her  shudder,  that  he 
would  sooner  die  where  he  was. 

"  Then,"  said  she,  quietly,  "  I  must  do  my  best  to 
conceal  you,  and  nurse  and  feed  you,  till  you  are 
well  enough  to  go  on  your  way.  Trust  in  me,  and 
follow  me." 

The  Cavalier  did  as  he  was  bid ;  but,  before  enter- 
ing the  narrow,  dark  passage,  he  held  up  the  cross 
of  his  sword-handle  and  bade  Alice  swear  she  would 
not  betray  him  into  her  uncle's  hands.  But  the 
little  lady  put  it  away  with  a  great  deal  of  dignity, 
and  said,  "  I  have  promised.  We  Republicans  do 
not  need  oaths  to  hold  us  to  cur  word." 

Alice  took  back  with  her  an  armful  of  leafy 
branches,  and,  when  they  reached  her  little  cave, 
spread  them  down  for  Lord  Villiers  to  lie  upon. 
She  gave  him  for  a  pillow  the  cushion  she  had  used 


ALICE  VANE  167 

to  kneel  on  for  her  devotions  and  laid  over  Mm  her 
own  little  mantle.  She  then  stole  up  into  the  castle 
and  got  some  refreshment  for  him,  and  a  roll  of  old 
linen  to  bandage  his  arm.  This  she  dressed  as  well 
as  she  knew  how ;  then  smoothed  his  pillow,  tucked 
her  mantle  closer  about  him,  advised  him  to  say  his 
prayers  like  a  good  Christian,  bade  him  good-night, 
and  left  him  to  his  rest. 

Alice  had  watched  her  aunt  nursing  wounded  sol- 
diers ;  and  the  next  morning,  thinking  it  very  prob- 
able that  Lord  Villiers's  arm  would  be  inflamed,  she 
took  down  suitable  medicines  and  dressings.  She 
found  her  patient  tossing  and  moaning  with  fever, 
and  for  two  or  three  days  he  suffered  a  great  deal; 
then  she  had  the  happiness  to  see  him  get  better  and 
stronger,  till  he  began  to  talk  and  lay  plans  about 
leaving  her.  The  young  noble  was  gentle  and 
grateful  and  Alice  grew  really  fond  of  him,  though 
it  grieved  her  that  he  was  a  Papist  and  a  Royalist. 
He  was  very  familiar  and  confiding  with  his  little 
friend  and  told  her  of  his  beautiful  sister,  who  was 
a  great  Duchess,  and  showed  her  a  miniature,  which 
he  wore  next  his  heart,  of  a  still  lovelier  and  dearer 
lady ;  and  Alice  one  day  told  him  her  sad  story,  in 
a  low,  mournful  voice,  struggling  hard  to  keep  the 
tears  back,  while  her  friend  laid  his  hand  on  her 
head  in  a  soft,  pitying  way. 

At  last  little  Alice  brought  the  joyful  news  that  a 
considerable  body  of  Royalist  troops  were  en- 
camped in  the  neighborhood ;  and  Lord  Villiers  re- 
solved to  escape  and  join  them  that  very  night. 


168    HEROmES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

In  preparation  for  this  escape,  he  proceeded  to 
buckle  on  his  sword-belt,  which  he  had  laid  aside 
during  his  illness.  As  Alice  sat  watching  him,  her 
eye  fell,  for  the  first  time,  on  a  jewel-hilted  dagger, 
which  he  wore  under  his  doublet. 

Giving  a  quick,  sharp  cry,  she  sprang  forward, 
caught  this  from  its  sheath,  and,  holding  it  up,  ex- 
claimed, "Where  did  you  get  this?  Tell  me!  O, 
tell  me !  " 

The  Cavalier  was  a  good  deal  startled;  but  he 
replied,  very  directly,  "Why,  to  tell  the  truth,  I 
took  it  from  the  body  of  a  young  Roundhead  whom 
I  killed  at  Naseby.  I  did  not  take  it  as  a  trophy  of 
war,  but  as  a  memento  of  him ;  for,  though  a  mere 
boy,  he  was  as  brave  as  a  lion." 

"  You  killed  our  Walter ! — You?  "  cried  Alice,  in 
a  tone  of  heart-breaking  reproach;  then,  sinking 
back,  she  clasped  the  dagger  against  her  breast, 
and,  bowing  her  head,  rocked  back  and  forth,  mur- 
muring, "  O  brother !  brother !  " 

The  careless  young  nobleman  was  shocked  and 
grieved  for  Alice.  He  laid  his  hand  on  her  head  in 
the  old  caressing  way;  but  she  flung  it  off,  with  a 
shudder.  Then,  a  little  frightened,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Now,  Alice,  you  hate  me,  an.d  perhaps  you  will 
betray  me." 

But  Alice,  lifting  her  head  proudly,  replied,  "  Do 
you  Royalists  have  such  notions  of  honor?  We 
Republicans  do  not  know  how  to  break  our  word  or 
betray  a  trust.  You  are  safe ;  and  you  would  have 
been  safe  had  you  killed  my  father  and  every- 


ALICE  VANE  169 

body  I  loved  in  the  world;  for  you  trusted  in 
me." 

They  parted,  not  as  enemies,  but  hardly  as 
friends;  for  Alice  could  not  again  shake  cordially 
the  hand  that  had  cut  down  her  beloved,  only 
brother.  She  kept  Walter's  dagger  and  treasured 
it  sorrowfully  all  her  life. 

Lord  Villiers  escaped  that  night  and  joined  the 
Royalist  troops  in  safety.  He  continued  to  fight 
for  the  King  till  there  was  no  more  hope ;  then  went 
over  to  France,  where  he  remained  imtil  after  the 
Restoration,  when  he  was  appointed  an  officer  in 
the  court  of  Charles  the  Second. 

One  of  the  first  things  he  did  was  to  inquire  for 
the  family  of  Colonel  Hutchinson;  for  he  had  al- 
ways gratefully  remembered  his  young  protectress. 
He  found  that  the  colonel  was  imprisoned  in  the 
Tower,  in  very  ill  health,  and  that  his  wife  and 
niece,  now  a  young  woman  grown,  were  faithfully 
attending  him.  So  he  wrote  to  Alice,  telling  her 
how  grateful  he  had  ever  been  for  her  goodness  and 
care  and  brave  protection,  which  had  surely  saved 
his  life,  and  how  he  hoped  she  bore  no  malice  to- 
ward him  in  her  heart  for  the  death  of  her  brother. 
He  went  on  to  say  that  he  could  not  rest  till  he  had 
done  something  to  repay  her  for  her  great  kindness ; 
that  he  had  it  in  his  power  through  his  wife  (for  he 
was  now  married),  and  his  sister,  the  beautiful 
Duchess,  to  obtain  for  her  the  envied  situation  of 
Maid  of  Honor  to  the  Queen.  He  said  that,  among 
the  many  beauties  of  that  gay  court,  there  was  not 


170    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

one  so  lovely  in  Ms  eyes  as  his  dear  little  protect- 
ress had  promised  to  be;  and  that,  should  she  ac- 
cept the  offered  place,  a  life  of  luxury  and  pleas- 
ure would  be  before  her;  for  everybody,  from  the 
King  and  Queen  down  to  the  pages  and  falconers 
of  the  court,  would  admire  and  love  her  for  the 
beauty  of  her  face  and  the  nobleness  of  her  char- 
acter. 

Alice  Vane  replied  to  Lord  Villiers  in  a  frank, 
straightforward  letter. 

"  Dear  Friend  :  It  has  given  me  joy  to  hear  by 
thy  letter  that  thou  art  living  and  wedded  to  the 
maiden  thy  heart  hath  cleaved  unto  so  long ;  but  I 
am  grieved  that  thou  art  exposing  her  and  thyself 
to  the  temptations  of  a  most  ungodly  court. 

"  I  have  long  ago  forgiven  thee  that  cruel  sword- 
thrust  which  made  untimely  end  of  my  comely 
young  brother's  life,  and  of  the  best  joy  of  mine, 
and  I  have  prayed  that  the  Lord  in  His  exceeding 
mercy  will  hold  thee  guiltless  of  his  blood.  Ye  did 
meet  in  fair  fight ;  and  verily,  hadst  thou  borne  thy- 
self less  manfully,  thou  wouldst  have  lain  in  poor 
Walter's  place. 

"  Thou  dost  owe  me  naught  for  the  little  service  I 
did  thee.  I  would  have  done  the  same  for  the  poor- 
est man  in  the  realm,  had  he  so  needed. 

"  Thy  gay  court  is  no  place  for  a  lowly  Christian 
maiden  like  me.  Thine  offer  was  made  in  kind- 
ness ;  but  forbear  to  urge  it,  lest  thou  wouldst  have 
me  come  to  stand  before  the  man,  Charles  Stuart, 
and  warn  him  to  repent  of  his  waste  and  wicked- 
ness, and  turn  unto  the  Lord  while  it  is  yet  time. 

"  We  have  been  sorely  tried  by  persecutions,  loss 
and  imprisonment ;  but  the  God  of  Israel  hath  been 


ALICE  YANE  171 

with  us  in  His  spirit  and  His  word,  and  we  have 
not  been  dismayed. 

"  I  shall  tarry  with  my  kinsfolk  as  long  as  they 
have  such  earnest  need  of  me ;  but  when  I  have  re- 
lease from  this  dear  duty,  with  a  beloved  and  godly 
friend,  whom  the  Lord  hath  raised  up  for  me,  I 
shall  depart  from  this  unhappy  country,  which  hath 
backslidden  from  liberty  and  the  true  faith,  to  a 
land  where  we  may  worship  in  freedom  and  in 
peace.  We  shall  cross  the  great  deep,  to  where,  in 
the  heathen  wilderness  of  America,  God  hath  pre- 
pared a  refuge  for  His  people. 

"  The  Lord  be  with  thee  and  preserve  thee  amid 
all  the  temptations  that  beset  thee,  and  bring  thee 
home,  if  even  by  sore  chastening,  to  thy  Father's 
house  at  last. 

"  I  rest  thy  friend, 

"Alice  Vanb.-'^ 


GRIZEL  HUME 

Grace  Gkeenwood 

A  SHORT  time  before  the  death  of  Charles  the 
Second  there  was  an  enterprise  formed  by  several 
eminent  English  and  Scottish  lords  and  gentlemen, 
to  prevent  the  Duke  of  York,  afterwards  James  the 
Second,  of  England,  from  ascending  the  throne. 
Through  treachery  and  rashness  this  enterprise 
failed,  and  many  of  those  engaged  in  it  were  ar- 
rested and  put  to  death.  Among  the  few  leaders 
who  escaped  the  vengeance  of  the  government  was 
the  good  and  brave  Sir  Patrick  Hume  of  Polwarth. 
It  happened  that  the  party  of  soldiers  sent  to  arrest 
him  stopped  for  refreshment  at  the  house  of  a  noble- 
man known  to  be  loyal.  Here  they  inquired  the 
way  to  Polwarth  Castle,  and  their  hostess,  being  a 
friend  to  Sir  Patrick,  resolved  to  give  him  warning. 
She  did  not  dare  to  write,  nor  even  to  trust  one  of 
her  servants  to  carry  a  plain  message  to  her  neigh- 
bor ;  but,  being  very  ingenious,  she  took  an  eagle's 
feather,  and  wrapping  it  in  a  piece  of  blank  paper, 
sent  it  by  a  fleet-footed  Highland  boy  across  the 
hills  to  Polwarth.  She  then  put  wines  and  rich 
meats  before  her  guests  and  made  them  so  ex- 
tremely comfortable  that  they  lingered  at  her  house 
as  long  as  possible. 

172 


GKIZEL  HUME  173 

Sir  Patrick  understood  at  once,  from  the  token 
she  sent,  that  he  was  in  danger  and  must  fly  or  se- 
crete himself.  He  resolved  upon  the  latter  course 
as  the  least  hazardous,  and  could  think  of  no  safer 
hiding-place  than  a  vault  in  Polwarth  churchyard, 
where  his  ancestors  Avere  buried. 

It  was  a  dismal  place  enough — damp,  dark  and 
cold — with  dead  men  and  women  and  children  lying 
all  about  in  mouldering  cofftns,  covered  with  tat- 
tered black  palls ;  but  it  was  better  than  a  prison 
cell,  chains  and  a  scaffold. 

Scarcely  had  he  secreted  himself  before  the  sol- 
diers arrived.  They  searched  for  him  high  and 
low,  far  and  wide — everywhere  but  in  the  old  vault. 
Then  they  separated  and  went  off  in  various  direc- 
tions, still  searching,  inquiring  and  swearing  at 
their  ill  luck.  At  night,  a  faithful  domestic  carried 
a  bed  and  some  blankets  to  the  churchyard,  flung 
them  down  into  the  vault,  and  then  ran  home,  his 
heart  beating  loud  and  his  teeth  chattering  for  fear 
of  ghosts  and  hobgoblins. 

But  there  was  one  who  was  not  frightened  from 
her  duty  by  any  such  wild  fancies,  so  full  was  her 
heart  of  that  "  perfect  love  which  casteth  out  fear." 
This  was  Sir  Patrick's  daughter,  Grizel,  a  betiutiful 
young  lady,  only  eighteen,  but  thoughtful,  coura- 
geous and  prudent  beyond  her  years.  She  Avas 
the  only  one  who  could  be  trusted  to  carry  her 
father  his  food,  which  must  always  be  taken  to  him 
at  midnight.  Her  mother,  who  was  rather  afflicted 
with   cowardice — "  nervousness  "    she    called   it — 


1Y4    HEEOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

waited  for  her  return  in  dreadful  anxiety  and  when 
she  came,  took  her  in  her  arms,  blessed  her  and  re- 
joiced over  her  as  though  she  had  risen  from  the 
dead.  "  But  did  it  no  fright  you,  lassie,  to  pass 
through  the  kirk-yard  at  such  an  awful  time  o' 
night?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  no.  Mother,"  said  Grizel,  smiling ;  "  I  knew 
God  could  take  care  of  me  as  well  at  midnight  as  at 
noonday,  and  I  felt  that  every  star  above  was  a  kind 
angel's  face,  watching  over  me.  I  feared  nothing. 
Mother,  but  the  minister's  dogs,  lest  their  barking 
should  rouse  the  people  at  the  manse  and  dear 
Father's  hiding-place  be  discovered." 

The  next  day  Lady  Hume  sent  for  the  minister 
and,  complaining  of  a  fear  of  mad  dogs,  persuaded 
him  to  shut  up  his  dogs  for  a  time. 

Grizel  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  in  obtaining 
food  for  her  father  without  the  knowledge  of  the 
servants ;  for  it  was  not  thought  best  to  trust  them 
with  her  secret.  She  used  to  watch  her  chance  and 
take  pieces  of  meat  and  bread  from  the  table,  when 
the  family  were  at  dinner.  One  day,  when  they 
had  sheep's  head,  a  good  old  Scotch  dish,  Grizel 
took  a  larger  portion  than  usual  off  the  platter  and 
hid  it  in  her  napkin.  Scarcely  had  she  done  so 
when  one  of  her  brothers,  a  little  boy,  and  apt  to 
blunder  out  the  wrong  thing  at  the  wrong  time  and 
place,  cried  out  indignantly,  "O  Mother,  see  Grizzy! 
while  we  were  supping  the  broth,  she  has  eaten  up 
almost  all  the  sheep's  head."  The  poor  girl  feared 
that  her  secret  would  be  discovered  then,  but  the 


GKIZEL  HUME  175 

servants  present  only  wondered  what  had  come 
over  Miss  Grizel  to  be  so  greedy. 

Sir  Patrick  remained  in  the  funeral  vault  with 
no  light  by  day  but  what  came  through  a  little  hole 
at  one  end,  and  no  amusement  but  reading  and  re- 
citing psalms  for  several  weeks ;  then  he  ventured 
to  return  for  a  little  while  to  his  house  and  from 
there  he  made  his  escape  in  safety  to  Holland, 
where  he  remained  till  after  the  death  of  Charles 
the  Second. 


THE  TWO  MARGARETS 

Grace  Greenwood 

In  May,  1685,  during  the  reign  of  James  tlie 
Seventh,  two  women,  one  named  Margaret  Mac- 
laughlin,  and  the  other  Margaret  Wilson,  were  ar- 
rested for  attending  a  field-meeting,  and,  refusing 
to  conform,  were  sentenced  to  death.  The  first  was 
an  aged  woman,  weary  of  a  world  in  which  she  had 
seen  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  longing  to  depart 
and  be  with  Christ.  But  the  other,  Margaret  Wil- 
son, was  young — only  eighteen  and  very  fair.  She 
had  many  to  love  her,  for  she  loved  many,  and  to 
her  this  earth  seemed  very  beautiful.  Yet  she  loved 
God  better  than  life  and  went  bravely,  even  cheer- 
fully, to  death  for  His  sake. 

The  form  of  execution  fixed  upon  for  these  two 
was  singular,  as  well  as  very  cruel.  They  were 
sentenced  to  be  bound  to  stakes,  driven  down  into 
the  sea  beach,  when  the  tide  was  coming  in — there 
to  stand  until  the  waters  should  overwhelm  and 
drown  them. 

The  morning  when  the  people  and  the  troops  as- 
sembled on  the  seashore  to  see  this  sentence  carried 
into  execution  was  very  bright  and  balmy.  The 
blackbirds  and  thrushes,  in  the  dark  fir-trees,  sang 
as  gaily  as  ever ;  and  the  wild  sea-birds,  whirling  in 

176 


THE  TWO  MARGAKETS  177 

the  pleasant  air,  screamed  out  their  shrill  delight, 
while  God's  beautiful  sunlight  fell,  as  His  rain  and 
dew  descend,  "  on  the  just,  and  on  the  unjust.'' 

The  tw^o  Margarets  came  down  to  the  beach,  es- 
corted by  a  troop  of  rude  soldiers,  and  followed  by 
a  crowd  of  weeping  friends.  They  both  walked 
firmly  and  were  very  calm,  though  their  faces  were 
deadly  pale,  and  their  lips  moved  in  prayer.  Be- 
fore they  were  fastened  to  the  stakes,  they  were  told 
that  their  lives  would  be  spared  if  they  would,  even 
then,  renounce  the  Covenant.  But  again  they 
firmly  refused.  Then  they  took  a  last  leave  of  their 
friends. 

Margaret  Maclaughlin  had  children  and  grand- 
children present.  She  kissed  them  and  blessed 
them  all,  very  tenderly  and  solemnly.  One  little 
grandson  she  took  in  her  aged  arms,  and  pressed  to 
her  bosom.  He  twined  his  chubby  arms  around 
her  neck  and  cried,  though  he  did  not  know  why, 
only  that  he  saw  tears  on  her  dear  old  cheeks. 
When  she  was  led  away  to  the  stake,  he  struggled  in 
his  father's  arms,  and  cried  out :  "  Come  back, 
grandmither !  Dinna  gang  awa'  into  the  black  sea 
— come  back  to  Johnny !  "  This  drew  tears  from 
many  eyes  in  the  crowd  and  even  touched  the  hard 
hearts  of  such  of  the  soldiers  as  had  children  or 
grandchildren  of  their  own. 

Margaret  Wilson  had  to  part  with  a  father  and 
mother,  brothers  and  sisters.  She  was  the  calmest 
of  them  all,  though  she  wept  very  much,  especially 
when  she  parted  from  her  mother,  who  was  a  sickly 


178    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

woman  and  needed  her  help.  This  poor  mother 
fainted  in  her  husband's  arms  when  their  beloved 
daughter  was  led  away  by  the  soldiers.  One  of 
Margaret's  brothers,  a  little  boy,  clung  longest  to 
her,  sobbing  and  shrieking  with  passionate  grief. 

"  Hush !  hush !  Jamie,"  said  the  young  martyr ; 
"  it  breaks  my  heart  to  hear  you ;  and  if  you  fill  my 
ears  wi'  yer  loud  greeting,  I  canna  hear  the  whis- 
pers o'  the  angels  wha  come  to  strengthen  me !  " 

Then  Jamie  grew  still,  let  go  her  dress,  and 
turned  his  face  away.  But  when  he  saw  her  bound 
to  the  stake  and  the  waves  rising  around  her,  his 
wild  grief  broke  out  afresh  and  he  rushed  into  the 
water,  crying :  "  I  am  a  Covenanter,  too ;  I  will  go 
drown  wi'  my  dear  sister  Maggie."  He  had  to  be 
brought  back  by  force,  and  the  incident  so  affected 
the  spectators  that  many  shouted,  "Rescue  the 
women !    Save  them !  save  them !  " 

The  military  force  was  too  strong  for  a  rescue; 
but  the  people  had  hopes  that  they  might  be  saved, 
for  the  magistrate  seemed  to  relent  for  a  moment, 
and  said  that  if  the  women  would  say,  "  God  save 
the  King !  "  they  might  go  free. 

Then  the  people  shouted  to  them  to  yield  this 
much.  "  Consider,"  they  said,  "  it  is  your  duty  to 
pray  even  for  the  greatest  sinner !  "  "Ay,  but  not 
at  the  bidding  of  every  profligate,"  replied  brave 
old  Margaret  Maclaughlin.  But  as  sweet  Mar- 
garet Wilson  said  that  she  "wished  not  that  any 
should  perish,  but  that  all  should  have  everlasting 
life,"  they  cried  out  that  she  had  prayed  for  the 


THE  TWO  MAEGARETS  179 

king,  and  rushing  into  the  water,  brought  her 
out. 

Then  the  magistrate,  growing  hard  again,  asked 
her  sternly  if  she  was  ready  now  to  renounce  the 
Covenant.  "  ISTo,"  she  answered,  with  gentle  firm- 
ness, "  I  have  signed  the  Covenant,  and  I  will  abide 
by  it  for  aye,  wi'  the  help  o'  the  God  o'  the  Cove- 
nant." Then  the  magistrate  grew  very  angry  and 
commanded  that  "  the  obstinate  lass  "  should  be 
taken  back  to  the  stake. 

Then  the  two  Margarets  spoke  cheering  words  to 
one  another,  and  for  a  while  looked .  toward  the 
shore,  smiling  and  waving  their  hands  in  loving 
farewell;  but  as  the  tide  came  in  strong  and 
stronger,  they  clasped  their  hands  on  their  breasts, 
raised  their  eyes,  and  gave  themselves  up  wholly  to 
prayer. 

The  foaming  waves  rose  to  Margaret  Wilson's 
slender  waist,  over  her  gentle,  noble  heart,  above  her 
white  praying  hands ;  and  they  rose  above  Margaret 
Maclaughlin's  strong,  faithful  heart,  over  her  shriv- 
elled, praying  hands,  trembling  with  cold;  then, 
only  two  faces  were  seen — one,  young  and  fair,  the 
other  old  and  wrinkled — but  both  beaming  with 
saintly  glory ;  and  last,  two  heads  of  long  hair — one 
gray,  and  the  other  golden — floated  for  a  moment 
on  the  crest  of  a  wave,  and  then  sunk  out  of  sight. 
The  golden  hair  remained  visible  a  little  longer  than 
the  other ;  for,  to  the  last,  Margaret  Wilson  kept  her 
face  turned  toward  Heaven,  as  though  to  welcome 
the  angels  coming  to  receive  her  soul ;  but  old  Mar- 


180    HEROmES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGENB 

garet  MaclaugMin  closed  her  eyes  and  let  her  head 
sink  on  her  breast,  as  though  she  wished  to  be  car- 
ried sleeping  to  her  Father's  mansion,  in  the  arms 
of  angels,  like  a  wearied  child. 

When  all  was  over,  it  happened  that  a  little  wave 
brought  to  Jamie  Wilson's  feet  the  snood,  or  white 
ribbon,  which  had  confined  his  sister's  beautiful 
hair.  He  caught  it  up,  kissed  it,  wept  over  it,  hid 
it  next  his  heart,  and  ever  after  treasured  it  as  the 
relic  of  a  saint. 


GKIZEL  COCHRANE'S  RIDE 

Elia  W.  Peattie 

In  tlie  midsimimei'  of  1G85,  the  hearts  of  the 
people  of  old  Edinburgh  were  filled  with  trouble 
and  excitement.  King  Charles  the  Second,  of  Eng- 
land, was  dead,  and  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  York, 
reigned  in  his  stead  to  the  dissatisfaction  of  a  great 
number  of  the  people. 

The  hopes  of  this  class  lay  with  the  young  Duke 
of  Monmouth,  the  ambitious  and  disinherited  son 
of  Charles  the  Second,  who,  on  account  of  the 
King's  displeasure,  had  been  living  for  some  time  at 
foreign  courts.  On  hearing  of  the  accession  of  his 
uncle,  the  Duke  of  York,  to  the  throne,  Monmouth 
yielded  to  the  plans  of  the  English  and  Scottish 
lords  who  favored  his  own  pretensions,  and  pre- 
pared to  invade  England  with  a  small  but  enthusi- 
astic force  of  men. 

The  Duke  of  Argyle,  the  noblest  lord  of  Scotland, 
who  also  was  an  exile,  undertook  to  conduct  the 
invasion  at  the  north,  while  Monmouth  should  en- 
ter England  at  the  west,  gather  the  yeomanry  about 
him  and  form  a  triumphant  conjunction  with  Ar- 
gyle in  London,  and  force  the  "  usurper,"  as  they 
called  King  James  the  Second,  from  his  throne. 

Both  landings  were  duly  made.  The  power  oY 
Monmouth's  name  and  rank  rallied  to  his  banner  at 

181 


182    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEITD 

first  a  large  number  of  adherents ;  but  tbeir  defeat 
at  Sedgemoor  put  an  end  to  bis  invasion.  And  tbe 
Duke  of  Argyle,  a  few  days  after  bis  landing  in 
Scotland,  was  met  by  a  superior  force  of  tbe  King's 
troops.  Retreating  into  a  morass,  bis  soldiers  were 
scattered  and  disj^ersed.  Many  of  bis  officers  de- 
serted bim  in  a  panic  of  fear.  Tbe  brave  old  noble- 
man bimself  was  taken  prisoner,  and  bebeaded  at 
Edinburgb,  wbile  all  tbe  people  secretly  mourned. 
He  died  witbout  betraying  bis  friends,  tbougb  tbe 
relentless  King  of  England  tbreatened  to  compel 
bim  to  do  so,  by  tbe  torture  of  tbe  tbumb-screw  and 
the  rack. 

Many  of  bis  officers  and  followers  underwent  tbe 
same  fate;  and  among  tbose  imprisoned  to  await 
execution  was  a  certain  nobleman,  Sir  John  Coch- 
rane, who  bad  been  made  famous  by  other  political 
intrigues.  His  friends  used  all  the  influence  that 
their  high  position  accorded  them  to  procure  his 
pardon,  but  witbout  success;  and  the  unfortunate 
baronet,  a  moody  and  impulsive  man  by  nature,  felt 
that  there  was  no  escape  from  the  terrible  destiny, 
and  prepared  to  meet  it  in  a  manner  worthy  of  a 
follower  of  tbe  brave  old  duke.  But  be  had  one 
friend  on  whose  help  he  had  not  counted. 

In  an  upper  chamber  of  an  irregular,  many- 
storied  mansion  far  down  the  Canongate,  Grizel 
Cochrane,  the  imprisoned  man's  daughter,  sat 
through  the  dread  hours  waiting  to  learn  her 
father's  sentence.    There  was  too  little  doubt  as  to 


GEIZEL  COCHRANE'S  RIDE  183 

what  it  would  be.  The  King  and  his  generals 
meant  to  make  merciless  examples  of  the  leaders  of 
the  rebellion.  Even  the  royal  blood  that  flowed  in 
the  veins  of  Monmouth  had  not  saved  his  head  from 
the  block.  This  proud  prince,  fleeing  from  the  de- 
feat of  Sedgemoor,  had  been  found  hiding  in  a 
ditch,  covered  over  with  the  ferns  that  flourished  at 
the  bottom.  Grizel  wept  as  she  thought  of  the 
young  duke's  horrible  fate.  She  remembered  when 
she  had  last  seen  him  about  the  court  at  Holland, 
where  she  had  shared  her  father's  exile.  Gay,  gen- 
erous, and  handsome,  he  seemed  a  creature  born  to 
live  and  rule.  What  a  contrast  was  the  abject, 
weeping  coward  covered  with  mud  and  slime,  who 
had  been  carried  in  triumph  to  the  grim  Tower  of 
London  to  meet  his  doom ! 

The  girl  had  been  taught  to  believe  in  Mon- 
mouth's rights,  and  she  walked  the  floor  trembling 
with  shame  and  impatience  as  she  thought  of  his 
bitter  defeat.  She  walked  to  the  little  dormer  win- 
dow and  leaned  out  to  look  at  the  gray  castle,  far 
up  the  street,  with  its  dull  and  lichen-covered  walls. 
She  knew  that  her  father  looked  down  from  the 
barred  windows  of  one  of  the  upper  apartments  ac- 
corded to  prisoners  of  state.  She  wondered  if  a 
thought  of  his  little  daughter  crept  in  his  mind 
amid  his  ruined  hopes.  The  grim  castle  frowning 
at  her  from  its  rocky  height  filled  her  with  dread ; 
and  shuddering,  she  turned  from  it  toward  the 
street  below  to  let  her  eyes  follow  absently  the 
passers-by.      They    whispered    together    as    they 


184    HEKOINES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGEND 

passed  tlie  house,  and  when  now  and  then  some 
person  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  face  in  the  ivy-shel- 
tered window,  she  only  met  a  look  of  commisera- 
tion.    No  one  offered  her  a  happy  greeting. 

"  They  all  think  him  doomed,"  she  cried  to  her- 
self. "  No  one  hath  the  grace  to  feign  hope."  Bit- 
ter tears  filled  her  eyes,  until  suddenly  through  the 
mist  she  was  conscious  that  some  one  below  was 
lifting  a  plumed  hat  to  her.  It  was  a  stately  gen- 
tleman with  a  girdled  vest  and  gorgeous  coat  and 
jeweled  sword-hilt. 

"Mistress  Cochrane,"  said  he,  in  that  hushed 
voice  we  use  when  we  wish  to  direct  a  remark  to  one 
person,  which  no  one  else  shall  overhear,  "  I  have 
that  to  tell  thee  which  is  most  important." 

"  Is  it  secret?  "  asked  Grizel,  in  the  same  guarded 
tone  that  he  had  used. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  without  looking  up,  and  con- 
tinuing slowly  in  his  walk,  as  if  he  had  merely  ex- 
changed a  morning  salutation. 

"  Then,"  she  returned,  hastily,  "  I  will  tell 
Mother;  and  we  will  meet  thee  in  the  twilight,  at 
the  side  door  under  the  balcony."  She  continued 
to  look  from  the  window,  and  the  man  sauntered  on 
as  if  he  had  no  care  in  the  world  but  to  keep  the 
scarlet  heels  of  his  shoes  from  the  dust.  After  a 
time  Grizel  arose,  changed  her  loose  robe  for  a  more 
ceremonious  dress,  bound  her  brown  braids  into  a 
prim  gilded  net,  and  descended  into  the  drawing- 
room. 

Her  mother  sat  in  mournful  state  at  the  end  of 


GKIZEL  COCHRANE'S  RIDE  185 

the  lofty  apartment.  About  her  were  two  ladies 
and  several  gentlemen,  all  conversing  in  low  tones 
such  as  they  might  use,  Grizel  thought  to  herself,  if 
her  father  were  dead  in  the  house.  They  all 
stopped  talking  as  she  entered,  and  looked  at  her  in 
surprise.  In  those  days  it  was  thought  very  im- 
proper and  forward  for  a  young  girl  to  enter  a 
drawing-room  uninvited,  if  guests  were  present. 
Grizel's  eyes  fell  before  the  embarrassing  scrutiny, 
and  she  dropped  a  timid  courtesy,  lifting  her  green 
silken  skirts  daintily,  like  a  high-born  little  maiden, 
as  she  was.  Lady  Cochrane  made  a  dignified  apol- 
ogj  to  her  guests  and  then  turned  to  Grizel. 

"Well,  my  daughter?"  she  said,  question- 
ingly. 

"  I  pray  thy  pardon,  Mother,"  said  Grizel,  in  a 
trembling  voice,  speaking  low,  that  only  her  mother 
might  hear;  "but  within  a  few  moments  Sir 
Thomas  Hanford  will  be  secretly  below  the  balcony 
with  news  for  us." 

The  lady  half  rose  from  her  seat,  trembling. 

"  Is  he  commissioned  by  the  governor? "  she 
asked. 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  said  the  little  girl ;  but  here  her 
voice  broke,  and  regardless  of  the  strangers,  she 
flung  herself  into  her  mother's  lap,  weeping ;  "  I  am 
sure  it  is  bad  news  of  Father !  " 

Lady  Cochrane  wound  her  arm  about  her  daugh- 
ter's waist,  and,  with  a  gesture  of  apology,  led  her 
from  the  room.  Half  an  hour  later  she  reentered  it 
hurriedly,  followed  by  Grizel,  who  sank  unnoticed 


186    HEROESTES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

in  tlie  deep  embrasure  of  a  window,  and  shivered 
there  behind  the  heavy  folds  of  the  velvet  hangings. 

"  I  have  just  received  terrible  intelligence,  my 
friends,"  announced  Lady  Cochrane,  standing,  tall 
and  pale,  in  the  midst  of  her  guests.  "  The  gov- 
ernor has  been  informally  notified  that  the  next 
post  from  London  will  bring  Sir  John's  sentence. 
He  is  to  be  hanged  at  the  Cross." 

There  was  a  perfect  silence  in  the  dim  room ;  then 
one  of  the  ladies  broke  into  loud  sobbing,  and  a  gen- 
tleman led  Lady  Cochrane  to  a  chair,  while  the 
others  talked  apart  in  earnest  whispers. 

"  Who  brought  the  information?  "  asked  one  of 
the  gentlemen,  at  length.  "  Is  there  not  hope  that 
it  is  a  false  report?  " 

"  I  am  not  at  liberty,"  said  Lady  Cochrane,  "  to 
tell  who  brought  me  this  terrible  news ;  but  it  was 
a  friend  of  the  governor,  from  whom  I  would  not 
have  expected  a  service.  Oh,  is  it  too  late,"  she 
cried,  rising  from  her  chair  and  pacing  the  room, 
"  to  make  another  attempt  at  intercession?  Surely 
something  can  be  done !  " 

The  gentleman  who  had  stood  by  her  chair — a 
gray-headed,  sober-visaged  man — returned  answer : 

"  Do  not  count  on  any  remedy  now,  dear  Lady 
Cochrane.  I  know  this  new  King.  He  will  be  re- 
lentless toward  any  one  who  has  questioned  his 
right  to  reign.  Besides,  the  post  has  already  left 
London  several  days,  and  will  doubtless  be  here  by 
to-morrow  noon." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  a  gentleman  who  had  not  yet 


GEIZEL  COCHRANE'S  RIDE  187 

spoken,  "  that  if  we  had  a  few  days  more  he  might 
be  saved.  They  say  King  James  will  do  anything 
for  money,  and  the  wars  have  emptied  his  treasury. 
Might  we  not  delay  the  post?  "  he  suggested,  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  No,"  said  the  gray-headed  gentleman ;  "  that  is 
utterly  impossible." 

Grizel,  shivering  behind  the  curtain,  listened 
with  eager  ears.  Then  she  saw  her  mother  throw 
herself  into  the  arms  of  one  of  the  ladies  and  break 
into  ungoverned  sobs.  The  jioor  girl  could  stand 
no  more,  but  glided  from  the  room  unnoticed  and 
crept  up  to  her  dark  chamber,  where  she  sat,  repeat- 
ing aimlessly  to  herself  the  words  that  by  chance 
had  fixed  themselves  strongest  in  her  memory: 
"  Delay  the  post — delay  the  post !  " 

The  moon  arose  and  shone  in  through  the  panes, 
making  a  wavering  mosaic  on  the  floor  as  it  glim- 
mered through  the  wind-blown  ivy  at  the  window. 
Like  a  flash,  a  definite  resolution  sprang  into 
Grizel's  mind.  If,  by  delaying  the  post,  time  for 
intercession  with  the  King  could  be  gained,  and  her 
father's  life  so  saved,  then  the  post  must  be  de- 
layed! But  how?  She  had  heard  the  gentleman 
say  that  it  would  be  impossible.  She  knew  that  the 
postboy  went  heavily  armed,  to  guard  against  the 
highwaymen  who  frequented  the  roads  in  search  of 
plunder.  This  made  her  think  of  the  wild  stories 
of  masked  men  who  sprung  from  some  secluded  spot 
upon  the  postboys,  and  carried  off  the  letters  and 
money  with  which  they  were  intrusted. 


188     HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Suddenly  she  bounded  from  her  seat,  stood  still 
a  moment  with  her  hands  pressed  to  her  head, 
ran  from  her  room  and  up  the  stairs  which  led  to 
the  servants'  sleeping  apartments.  She  listened  at 
a  door,  and  then,  satisfied  that  the  room  was  empty, 
entered,  and  went  straight  to  the  oaken  wardrobe. 
By  the  light  of  the  moon  she  selected  a  jacket  and  a 
pair  of  trousers.  She  looked  about  her  for  a  hat 
and  found  one  hanging  on  a  peg  near  the  window ; 
then  she  searched  for  some  time  before  she  foimd  a 
pair  of  boots.  They  were  worn  and  coated  with 
mud. 

"  They  are  all  the  better,"  she  said  to  herself,  and 
hurried  on  tiptoe  down  the  corridor.  She  went 
next  to  the  anteroom  of  her  father's  chamber.  It 
was  full  of  fond  associations,  and  the  hot  tears 
sprung  into  her  eyes  as  she  looked  about  it.  She 
took  up  a  brace  of  pistols,  examined  them  awk- 
wardly, her  hands  trembling  under  their  weight  as 
she  found  at  once  to  her  delight  and  her  terror  that 
they  were  loaded.  Then  she  hurried  with  them  to 
her  room. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  butler  saw  a  figure  which 
he  took  to  be  that  of  Allen,  the  stable-boy,  creeping 
down  the  back  stairs,  boots  in  hand. 

"  Whaur  noo,  me  laddie?  "  ho  asked.  "  It's  gey 
late  for  ye  to  gang  oot  the  niclit." 

"  I  hae  forgot  to  bar  the  stable-door,"  replied 
Grizel  in  a  low  and  trembling  voice,  imitating 
as  well  as  she  could  the  broad  dialect  of  the 
boy. 


GRIZEL  COCHRANE'S  RIDE  189 

"  Hech !  "  said  the  butler.  '^  I  ne'er  hear  ye  mak 
sae  little  hammer  in  a'  yer  days." 

She  fled  on.  The  great  kitchen  was  deserted. 
She  gathered  up  all  the  keys  from  their  pegs  by  the 
door,  let  herself  quietly  out,  and  sped  across  the 
yard  to  the  stable.  With  trembling  hands  she  fitted 
first  one  key  and  then  another  to  the  door  until  she 
found  the  right  one.  Once  inside  the  stable,  she 
stood  irresolute.  She  patted  Bay  Bess,  her  own 
little  pony. 

"  Thou  wouldst  never  do,  Bess,"  she  said.  "  Thou 
art  such  a  lazy  little  creature."  The  round,  fat 
carriage-horses  stood  there.  "  You  are  just  holi- 
day horses,  too,"  said  Grizel  to  them,  "  and  would 
be  winded  after  an  hour  of  the  work  I  want  you  for 
to-night."  But  in  the  shadow  of  the  high  stall 
stood  Black  Ronald,  Sir  John  Cochrane's  great, 
dark  battle-horse,  that  riderless,  covered  with  dust 
and  foam,  had  dashed  down  the  Canongate  after  the 
terrible  rout  of  Argyle  in  the  bogs  of  Leven-side, 
while  all  the  people  stood  and  stared  at  the  familiar 
steed,  carrying,  as  he  did,  the  first  silent  mes- 
sage of  disaster.  Him  Grizel  unfastened  and  led 
out. 

"  Thou  art  a  true  hero,"  she  said,  rubbing  his 
nose  with  the  experienced  touch  of  a  horsewoman ; 
"  and  I'll  give  thee  a  chance  to-night  to  show  that 
thou  art  as  loyal  as  ever."  Her  hands  were  cold 
with  excitement,  but  she  managed  to  buckle  the 
saddle  and  bridle  upon  him,  while  the  huge  animal 
stood  in  restless  expectancy,  anxious  to  be  gone. 


190    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AJSTD  LEGEND 

She  drew  on  the  boots  without  any  trouble,  and 
slipped  the  pistols  into  the  holsters. 

"  I  believe  thou  knowest  what  I  would  have  of 
thee,"  said  Grizel  as  she  led  the  horse  out  into 
the  yard  and  on  toward  the  gateway.  Frightened, 
as  he  half  circled  about  her  in  his  impatience, 
she  undid  the  fastening  of  the  great  gates,  but 
her  strength  was  not  sufficient  to  swing  them 
open. 

"  Ronald,"  she  said  in  despair,  "  I  cannot  open 
the  gates ! "  Ronald  turned  his  head  about  and 
looked  at  her  with  his  beautiful  eyes.  He  seemed 
to  be  trying  to  say,  "  I  can." 

"All  right,"  said  Grizel,  as  if  he  had  spoken.  She 
mounted  the  black  steed,  laughed  nervously  as  she 
climbed  into  the  saddle.  "Now,"  she  said,  "go 
on ! "  The  horse  made  a  dash  at  the  gates,  burst 
them  open,  and  leaped  out  into  the  road.  He  cur- 
veted about  for  a  moment,  his  hoofs  striking  fire 
from  the  cobble-stones.  Then  Grizel  turned  his 
head  down  the  Canongate,  away  from  the  castle. 
She  knew  the  point  at  which  she  intended  to  leave 
the  city,  and  toward  that  point  she  headed  Black 
Ronald.  The  horse  seemed  to  know  he  was  doing 
his  old  master  a  service,  as  he  tx)ok  his  monstrous 
strides  forward.  Only  once  did  Grizel  look  back- 
ward, and  then  a  little  shudder,  half  terror,  half 
remorse,  struck  her,  for  she  saw  her  home  ablaze 
with  light,  and  heard  cries  of  excitement  borne 
faintly  to  her  on  the  rushing  night  wind.  They 
had  discovered  her  flight.    Once  she  thought  she 


GKIZEL  COCHEANE'S  RIDE  191 

heard  hoof-beats  behind  her,  but  she  knew  she  could 
not  be  overtaken. 

Through  the  streets,  now  narrow,  now  broad, 
now  straight,  now  crooked,  dashed  Black  Konald 
and  his  mistress.  Once  he  nearly  ran  down  a 
drowsy  watchman  who  stood  nodding  at  a  sharp 
corner,  but  horse  and  rider  were  three  hundred 
yards  away  before  the  frightened  guardian  re- 
gained his  composure  and  sprang  his  discordant 
rattle. 

Now  the  houses  grew  scarcer,  and  presently  the 
battlements  of  the  town  wall  loomed  up  ahead,  and 
Grizel's  heart  sank,  for  there  were  lights  in  the 
road.  She  heard  shouts,  and  knew  she  was  to  be 
challenged.  She  firmly  set  her  teeth,  said  a  little 
prayer,  and  leaned  far  forward  upon  Black  Ron- 
ald's neck.  The  horse  gave  a  snort  of  defiance, 
shied  violently  away  from  a  soldier  who  stood  by 
the  way,  and  then  went  through  the  gateway  like  a 
shot.  Grizel  clung  tightly  to  her  saddle-bow,  and 
urged  her  steed  on.  On,  on  they  went  down  the 
firm  roadway  lined  on  either  side  by  rows  of  noble 
oaks — on,  on,  out  into  the  countryside,  where  the 
sweet  odor  of  the  heather  arose  gracious  and  fra- 
grant to  the  trembling  girl.  There  was  little 
chance  of  her  taking  a  wrong  path.  The  road  over 
which  the  postboy  came  was  the  King's  highway, 
always  kept  in  a  state  of  repair. 

She  gave  herself  no  time  to  notice  the  green  up- 
land farms,  or  the  stately  residences  which  stood 
out  on  either  hand  in  the  moonlight.     She  concen- 


192    HEROINES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGEND 

trated  her  strength  and  mind  on  urging  her  horse 
forward.  She  was  too  excited  to  form  a  definite 
plan,  and  her  only  clear  idea  was  to  meet  the  post- 
boy before  daylight,  for  she  knew  it  would  not  be 
safe  to  trust  too  much  to  her  disguise.  Now  and 
then  a  feeling  of  terror  flashed  over  her,  and  she 
turned  sick  with  dread;  but  her  firm  purpose  up- 
held her. 

It  was  almost  four  in  the  morning,  and  the  wind 
was  blowing  chill  from  the  sea,  when  she  entered 
the  rolling  woodlands  about  the  Tweed.  Grizel  was 
shivering  with  the  cold,  and  was  so  tired  that  she 
with  diffl.culty  kept  her  place  in  the  saddle. 

"  We  cannot  hold  out  much  longer,  Ronald,"  she 
said;  "and  if  we  fail,  w^e  can  never  hold  up  our 
heads  again."  Ronald,  the  sure-footed,  stumbled 
and  nearly  fell.  "  It  is  no  use,"  sighed  Grizel ;  "  we 
must  rest." 

She  dismounted,  but  it  was  some  moments  before 
her  tired  limbs  could  obey  her  will.  Beside  the 
roadway  was  a  ditch  filled  with  running  water,  and 
Grizel  managed  to  lead  Ronald  down  the  incline  to 
its  brink,  and  let  him  drink.  She  scooped  up  a  lit- 
tle in  her  hand  and  moistened  her  tongue;  then, 
realizing  that  Ronald  must  not  be  allowed  to  stand 
still,  she,  with  great  diificulty,  mounted  upon  his 
back  again,  and,  heartsick,  fearful,  yet  not  daring 
to  turn  back,  coaxed  him  gently  forward. 

The  moon  had  set  long  before  this,  and  in  the 
misty  east  the  sky  began  to  blanch  with  the  first 
gleam  of  morning.     Suddenly,  around  the  curve  of 


GKIZEL  COCHRANE'S  RIDE  193 

the  road  where  it  leaves  the  banks  of  the  Tweed, 
came  a  dark  object.  Grizel's  heart  leaped  wildly. 
Thirty  seconds  later  she  saw  that  it  was  indeed  a 
horseman.     He  broke  into  a  song : 

"The  Lord  o'  Argyle  cam'  wi'  plumes  and  wi'  spears, 
And  Monmouth  he  landed  wi'  gay  cavaliers! 
The  pibroch  has  eaa'd  every  tartan  thegither, 
B'thoosans  their  footsteps  a'pressin'  the  heather; 
Th'  North  and  the  South  sent  their  bravest  ones  out, 
But  a  joust  wi'  Kirke's  Lambs  put  them  all  to  the 
rout." 

By  this  time  the  horseman  was  so  close  that 
Grizel  could  distinguish  objects  hanging  upon  the 
horse  in  front  of  the  rider.  They  were  the  mail- 
bags  !  For  the  first  time  she  realized  her  weakness 
and  saw  how  unlikely  it  was  that  she  would  be  able 
to  cope  with  an  armed  man.  The  blood  rushed  to 
her  head,  and  a  courage  that  was  the  inspiration  of 
the  moment  took  possession  of  her.  She  struck 
Black  Ronald  a  lash  with  her  whip. 

"  Go !  "  she  said  to  him  shrilly,  while  her  heart- 
beats hammered  in  her  ears,  "  Go !  " 

The  astonished  and  excited  horse  leaped  down 
the  road.  As  she  met  the  postboy,  she  drew  Black 
Ronald,  with  a  sudden  strength  that  was  born  of 
the  danger,  back  upon  his  haunches.  His  huge 
body  blocked  the  way. 

"  Dismount !  "  she  cried  to  the  other  rider.  Her 
voice  was  hoarse  from  fright  and  sounded 
strangely  in  her  own  ears.     But  a  wild  courage 


194    HEKOIIS^ES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

nerved  her,  and  the  hand  that  drew  and  held  the 
pistol  was  as  firm  as  a  man's.  Black  Eonald  was 
rearing  wildly,  and  in  grasping  the  reins  tighter, 
her  other  hand  mechanically  altered  its  position 
about  the  pistol. 

She  had  not  meant  to  fire,  she  had  only  thought 
to  aim  and  threaten,  but  suddenly  there  was  a  flash 
of  light  in  the  gray  atmosphere,  a  dull  reverbera- 
tion, and  to  the  girl's  horrified  amazement  she  saw 
the  horse  in  front  of  her  stagger  and  fall  heavily  to 
the  ground.  The  rider,  thrown  from  his  saddle, 
was  pinned  to  the  earth  by  his  horse  and  stunned  by 
the  fall.  Dizzy  with  pain  and  confused  by  the 
rapidity  of  the  assault,  he  made  no  effort  to  draw 
his  weapon. 

The  mail-bags  had  swung  by  their  own  momen- 
tum quite  clear  of  the  horse  in  its  fall,  and  now  lay 
loosely  over  its  back,  joined  by  the  heavy  strap. 

It  was  a  painful  task  for  the  exhausted  girl  to 
dismount,  but  she  did  so,  and,  lifting  the  cumber- 
some leathern  bags,  she  threw  them  over  Black 
Ronald's  neck.  It  was  yet  more  painful  to  her  ten- 
der heart  to  leave  the  poor  fellow  she  had  injured 
lying  in  so  pitiable  a  condition,  but  her  father's  life 
was  in  danger,  and  that,  to  her,  was  of  more  mo- 
ment than  the  postboy's  hurts. 

"  Heaven  forgive  me,"  she  said,  bending  over  him. 
"I  pray  this  may  not  be  his  death!"  She  clam- 
bered over  the  fallen  horse  and  mounted  Ronald, 
who  was  calm  again.  Then  she  turned  his  head  to- 
ward Edinboro'  Town  and  hurriedly  urged  him  for- 


GKIZEL  COCHKANE'S  RIDE  195 

ward.  But  as  she  sped  away  from  the  scene  of  the 
encounter  she  kept  looking  back,  with  an  awe- 
struck face,  to  the  fallen  postboy.  In  the  excite- 
ment of  the  meeting  and  in  her  one  great  resolve  to 
obtain  her  father's  death-warrant,  she  had  lost  all 
thought  of  the  risks  she  ran  or  of  the  injuries  she 
might  inflict;  and  it  was  with  unspeakable  relief, 
therefore,  that  she  at  last  saw  the  postboy  struggle 
to  his  feet  and  stand  gazing  after  her. 

"  Thank  Heaven,  he  is  not  killed !  "  she  exclaimed 
again  and  again,  as  she  now  joyfully  pressed  Ron- 
ald into  a  gallop.  Throughout  the  homeward  jour- 
ney Grizel  made  it  a  point  to  urge  him  to  greater 
speed  when  nearing  a  farmhouse,  so  that  there 
would  be  less  risk  of  discovery.  Once  or  twice  she 
was  accosted  by  laborers  in  the  field,  and  once  by 
the  driver  of  a  cart,  but  their  remarks  were  lost 
upon  the  wind  as  the  faithful  Ronald  thundered  on. 
She  did  not  feel  the  need  of  sleep,  for  she  had  for- 
gotten it  in  all  her  excitement,  but  she  was  greatly 
exhausted  and  suffering  from  the  effects  of  her 
rough  ride. 

Soon  the  smoke  in  the  distance  showed  Grizel 
that  her  native  town  lay  an  hour's  journey  ahead. 
She  set  her  teeth  and  said  an  encouraging  word  to 
the  horse.  He  seemed  to  understand,  for  he  re- 
doubled his  energies.  Now  the  roofs  became  vis- 
ible, and  now,  grim  and  sullen,  the  turrets  of  the 
castle  loomed  up.  Grizel  felt  a  great  lump  in  her 
throat  as  she  thought  of  her  father  in  his  lonely 
flespair. 


196    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

She  turned  Ronald  from  the  road  again  and  cut 
through  a  clump  of  elms.  She  came  out  in  a  few 
minutes  and  rode  more  slowly  toAvard  a  smaller 
gate  than  the  one  by  which  she  had  left  the  city.  A 
stout  soldier  looked  at  her  carelessly  and  then 
turned  to  his  tankard  of  ale,  after  he  had  noticed 
the  mail-bags.  Grizel  turned  into  a  crooked,  nar- 
row street  lined  on  each  side  with  toppling,  frown- 
ing buildings.  She  drew  rein  before  a  humble 
house,  and  slipped  wearily  from  her  saddle  and 
knocked  at  the  door.  An  old  woman  opened  the 
heavy  oaken  door  and  Grizel  fell  into  her  arms. 

"  The  bags — the  mail,"  she  gasj)ed,  and  fainted. 
When  she  recovered  consciousness,  she  found  her- 
self on  a  low,  rough  bed.  The  old  woman  was 
bending  over  her. 

"  Losh  keep  me !  "  said  the  dame.     "  I  did  na  ken. 
ye!     Ma  puir  bairnie!     Hoo  cam'  ye  by  these?" 
and  she  pointed  to  the  clothes  of  Allen. 

"  The  bags?  "  said  Grizel,  sitting  bolt  upright. 

"  Are  under  the  hearth,"  said  the  old  woman. 

"And  Ronald?"  continued  Grizel. 

"  Is  in  the  byre  wi'  the  coos,"  said  the  other  with 
a  knowing  leer.  "Not  a  soul  kens  it.  Ne'er  a 
body  saw  ye  come." 

Breathlessly  Grizel  explained  all  to  her  old 
nurse,  and  then  sprung  off  the  bed.  At  her  request 
the  old  dame  locked  the  door  and  brought  her  the 
bags.  By  the  aid  of  a  sharp  knife  the  pair  slashed 
open  the  leathern  covering,  and  the  inclosed  packets 
fell  upon  the  floor.    With  trembling  hands  Grizel 


GRIZEL  COCHPwANE'S  RIDE  197 

fumbled  them  all  over,  tossing  one  after  another 
impatiently  aside  as  she  read  the  addresses.  At 
last  she  came  upon  a  large  one  addressed  to  the 
governor.  With  beating  heart  she  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  tore  the  packet  open  with  shaking 
fingers.  She  easily  read  the  bold  handwriting. 
Suddenly  everything  swam  before  her,  and  again 
she  nearly  fell  into  her  companion's  arms. 

It  was  too  true.  What  she  read  was  a  formal 
warrant  of  the  King,  signed  by  his  majesty,  and 
stamped  and  sealed  with  red  wax.  It  ordered  the 
governor  to  hang  Sir  John  Cochrane  of  Ochiltree 
at  the  Cross  in  Edinburgh  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  on  the  third  day  of  the  following  week. 
She  clutched  the  paper  and  hid  it  in  her  dress. 

The  disposition  of  the  rest  of  the  mail  was  soon 
decided  upon.  The  old  lady's  son  Jock — a  wild 
fellow — was  to  put  the  sacks  on  the  back  of  a 
donkey  and  turn  it  loose  outside  the  gates,  at  his 
earliest  opportunity.  And  then  Grizel,  clad  in 
some  rough  garments  the  old  lady  procured,  slipped 
out  of  the  house,  and  painfully  made  her  way  to- 
ward the  Canongate. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  she 
reached  her  home.  The  porter  at  the  gate  could 
scarcely  be  made  to  understand  that  the  uncouth 
figure  before  him  was  his  young  mistress.  But  a 
moment  later  her  mother  was  embracing  her,  with 
tears  of  joy. 

All  the  male  friends  of  Sir  John  were  hastily 
summoned,  and  Grizel  related  her  adventure,  and 


198    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

displayed  tlie  death-warrant  of  her  father.  The 
hated  document  was  consigned  to  the  flames,  a 
consultation  was  held,  and  that  night  three  of  the 
gentlemen  left  for  London. 

The  next  day,  the  donkey,  and  the  mail-sacks 
were  found  by  a  sentry,  and  some  little  excitement 
was  occasioned ;  but  when  the  postboy  came  in  later, 
and  related  how  he  had  been  attacked  by  six 
stalwart  robbers,  and  how  he  had  slain  two  of 
them  and  was  then  overpowered  and  forced  to  sur- 
render the  bags,  all  wonderment  was  set  at  rest. 

The  Cochrane  family  passed  a  week  of  great 
anxiety,  but  when  it  was  ended,  the  three  friends 
returned  from  London  with  joyful  news.  The  King 
had  listened  to  their  petition,  and  had  ordered  the 
removal  of  Sir  John  to  the  Tower  of  London,  until 
his  case  could  be  reconsidered.  So  to  London  Sir 
John  went;  and  after  a  time  the  payment  of  five 
thousand  pounds  to  some  of  the  King's  advisers 
secured  an  absolute  pardon.  His  lands,  which  had 
been  confiscated,  were  restored  to  him;  and  on  his 
arrival  at  his  Scottish  home,  he  was  warmly  wel- 
comed by  a  great  concourse  of  his  friends.  He 
thanked  them  in  a  speech,  taking  care,  however,  not 
to  tell  who  was  so  greatly  instrumental  in  making 
his  liberation  possible.  But  we  may  be  sure  that 
he  was  secretly  proud  of  the  pluck  and  devotion  of 
his  daughter  Grizel. 


THE  HEROINE  OF  VERCHERES 

Francis  Parkman 

Many  incidents  of  [the  Iroquois  inroads  in  New 
France]  are  preserved,  but  none  of  them  are  so  well 
worth  the  record  as  the  defense  of  the  fort  at 
Vercheres  by  the  young  daughter  of  the  seignior. 
Many  years  later,  the  Marquis  de  Beauharnois,  gov- 
ernor of  Canada,  caused  the  story  to  be  written 
doTVTi  from  the  recital  of  the  heroine  herself. 

Vercheres  was  on  the  south  shore  of  the  St. 
Lawrence  about  twenty  miles  below  Montreal.  A 
strong  blockhouse  stood  outside  the  fort,  and  was 
connected  with  it  by  a  covered  way.  On  the  morn- 
ing of  the  twenty-second  of  October  [1692]  the  in- 
habitants were  at  work  in  the  fields,  and  nobody 
was  left  in  the  place  but  two  soldiers,  two  boys,  an 
old  man  of  eighty,  and  a  number  of  women  and 
children.  The  seignior,  formerly  an  officer  of  the 
regiment  of  Carignan,  was  on  duty  at  Quebec ;  his 
wife  was  at  Montreal;  and  their  daughter  Made- 
leine, fourteen  years  of  age,  was  at  the  landing- 
place  not  far  from  the  gate  of  the  fort,  with  a  hired 
man  named  Laviolette. 

Suddenly  she  heard  firing  from  the  direction 
where  the  settlers  were  at  work,  and  an  instant 
after  Laviolette  cried  out,  "  Run,  Mademoiselle, 
run !  here  come  the  Iroquois !  " 

199 


200    HEROmES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

She  turned  and  saw  forty  or  fifty  of  them  at  the 
distance  of  a  pistol-shot.  "  I  ran  for  the  fort,  com- 
mending myself  to  the  Holy  Virgin.  The  Iroquois 
who  chased  after  me,  seeing  that  they  could  not 
catch  me  alive  before  I  reached  the  gate,  stopped 
and  fired  at  me.  The  bullets  whistled  about  my 
ears,  and  made  the  time  seem  very  long.  As  soon 
as  I  was  near  enough  to  be  heard,  I  cried  out,  '  To 
arms !  to  arms ! '  hoping  that  somebody  would  come 
out  and  help  me;  but  it  was  of  no  use.  The  two 
soldiers  in  the  fort  were  so  scared  that  they  had 
hidden  in  the  blockhouse.  At  the  gate,  I  found  two 
women  crying  for  their  husbands,  who  had  just 
been  killed.  I  made  them  go  in,  and  then  shut 
the  gate. 

"  I  next  thought  what  I  could  do  to  save  myself 
and  the  few  people  with  me.  I  went  to  inspect  the 
fort,  and  found  that  several  palisades  had  fallen 
down,  and  left  openings  by  which  the  enemy  could 
easily  get  in.  I  ordered  them  to  be  set  up  again 
and  helped  to  carry  them  myself.  When  the 
breaches  were  stopped,  I  went  to  the  blockhouse 
where  the  ammunition  is  kept,  and  here  I  found  the 
two  soldiers — one  hiding  in  a  corner,  and  the  other 
with  a  lighted  match  in  his  hand. 

"  *  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  match? ' 
I  asked.  He  answered,  'Light  the  powder  and 
blow  us  all  up.'  '  You  are  a  miserable  coward,' 
said  I,  *  go  out  of  this  place.'  I  spoke  so  resolutely 
that  he  obeyed. 

"  I  then  threw  off  my  bonnet ;  and  after  putting 


THE  HEROINE  OF  YERCHERES        201 

on  a  hat  and  taking  a  gun,  I  said  to  my  two  broth- 
ers :  ^  Let  us  fight  to  the  death.  We  are  fighting 
for  our  country  and  our  religion.  Remember  that 
our  father  has  taught  you  that  gentlemen  are  born 
to  shed  their  blood  for  the  service  of  God  and  the 
King.' " 

The  boys,  who  were  twelve  and  ten  years  old, 
aided  by  the  soldiers,  whom  her  words  had  inspired 
with  some  little  courage,  began  to  fire  from  the 
loopholes  upon  the  Iroquois,  who,  ignorant  of  the 
weakness  of  the  garrison,  showed  their  usual  re- 
luctance to  attack  a  fortified  place,  and  occupied 
themselves  with  chasing  and  butchering  the  people 
in  the  neighboring  fields.  Madeleine  ordered  a 
cannon  to  be  fired,  partly  to  deter  the  enemy  from 
an  assault,  and  partly  to  warn  some  of  the  soldiers, 
who  were  hunting  at  a  distance.  The  women  and 
children  in  the  fort  cried  and  screamed  without 
ceasing.  She  ordered  them  to  stop,  lest  their  terror 
should  encourage  the  Indians. 

A  canoe  was  presently  seen  approaching  the 
landing-place.  It  was  a  settler  named  Fontaine, 
trying  to  reach  the  fort  with  his  family.  The  Iro- 
quois were  still  near;  and  Madeleine  feared  that 
the  newcomers  would  be  killed,  if  something  were 
not  done  to  aid  them.  She  appealed  to  the  soldiers, 
but  their  courage  was  not  equal  to  the  attempt; 
on  which,  as  she  declares,  after  leaving  Laviolette 
to  keep  watch  at  the  gate,  she  herself  went  alone 
to  the  landing-place. 

"  I  thought  that  the  savages  would  suppose  it  to 


202    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

be  a  ruse  to  draw  them  toward  the  fort,  in  order 
to  make  a  sortie  upon  them.  They  did  suppose 
so,  and  thus  I  was  able  to  save  the  Fontaine  family. 
When  they  were  all  landed,  I  made  them  march 
before  me  in  full  sight  of  the  enemy.  We  put  so 
bold  a  face  on  it,  that  they  thought  they  had  more 
to  fear  than  we.  Strengthened  by  this  reinforce- 
ment, I  ordered  that  the  enemy  should  be  fired  on 
whenever  they  showed  themselves. 

"  After  sunset,  a  violent  northeast  wind  began 
to  blow,  accompanied  with  snow  and  hail,  which 
told  us  that  we  should  have  a  terrible  night.  The 
Iroquois  were  all  this  time  lurking  about  us ;  and  I 
judged  by  their  movements  that,  instead  of  being 
deterred  by  the  storm,  they  would  climb  into  the 
fort  under  cover  of  the  darkness. 

"  I  assembled  all  my  troops,  that  is  to  say,  six 
persons,  and  spoke  to  them  thus :  ^  God  has  saved 
us  to-day  from  the  hands  of  our  enemies,  but  we 
must  take  care  not  to  fall  into  their  snares  to-night. 
As  for  me,  I  want  you  to  see  that  I  am  not  afraid. 
I  will  take  charge  of  the  fort  with  an  old  man  of 
eighty  and  another  who  never  fired  a  gun ;  and  you, 
Pierre  Fontaine,  with  La  Bonte  and  Gachet  (our 
two  soldiers),  will  go  to  the  blockhouse  with  the 
women  and  children,  because  that  is  the  strongest 
place;  and  if  I  am  taken,  don't  surrender,  even  if 
I  am  cut  to  pieces  and  burned  before  your  eyes. 
The  enemy  cannot  hurt  you  in  the  blockhouse,  if 
you  make  the  least  show  of  fight.' 

"  I  placed  my  young  brothers  on  two  of  the  bas- 


THE  HEROINE  OF  VERCH:^RES        203 

tions,  the  old  man  on  the  third,  and  I  took  the 
fourth;  and  all  night,  in  spite  of  wind,  snow,  and 
hail,  the  cries  of  *  All's  well '  were  kept  up  from 
the  blockhouse  to  the  fort,  and  from  the  fort  to  the 
bloclihouse.  One  would  have  thought  that  the 
place  was  full  of  soldiers.  The  Iroquois  thought 
so,  and  were  completely  deceived — as  they  con- 
fessed afterwards  to  Monsieur  de  Calli^res,  whom 
they  told  that  they  had  held  a  council  to  make  a 
plan  for  capturing  the  fort  in  the  night,  but  had 
done  nothing  because  such  a  constant  watch  was 
kept. 

"  About  one  in  the  morning,  the  sentinel  on  the 
bastion  by  the  gate  called  out,  '  Mademoiselle,  I 
hear  something.'  I  went  to  him  to  find  what  it  was ; 
and  by  the  help  of  the  snow,  which  covered  the 
ground,  I  could  see  through  the  darkness  a  number 
of  cattle,  the  miserable  remnant  that  the  Iroquois 
had  left  us.  The  others  wanted  to  open  the  gate 
and  let  them  in,  but  I  answered :  ^  God  forbid ! 
You  don't  know  all  the  tricks  of  the  savages.  They 
are  no  doubt  following  the  cattle,  covered  with 
skins  of  beasts,  so  as  to  get  into  the  fort,  if  we  are 
simple  enough  to  open  the  gate  for  them.'  Never- 
theless, after  taking  every  precaution,  I  thought 
that  we  might  open  it  without  risk.  I  made  my  two 
brothers  stand  ready  with  thoir  guns  cocked  in  case 
of  surprise,  and  so  we  let  in  the  cattle. 

"  At  last,  the  daylight  came  again ;  and,  as  the 
darkness  disappeared,  our  anxieties  seemed  to  dis- 
appear with  it.     Everybody  took  courage  except 


204    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  wife  of  tlie  Sieur  Fon- 
taine, who,  being  extremely  timid,  as  all  Parisian 
women  are,  asked  her  husband  to  carry  her  to  an- 
other fort.  .  .  .  He  said, '  I  will  never  abandon 
this  fort  while  Mademoiselle  Madeleine  is  here.'  I 
answered  him  that  I  would  never  abandon  it;  that 
I  would  rather  die  than  give  it  up  to  the  enemy; 
and  that  it  was  of  the  greatest  importance  that 
they  should  never  get  possession  of  any  French 
fort,  because  if  they  got  one  they  would  think  they 
could  get  others,  and  would  grow  more  bold  and 
presumptuous  than  ever. 

"  I  may  say  with  truth  that  I  did  not  eat  or  sleep 
for  twice  twenty-four  hours.  I  did  not  go  once 
into  my  father's  house,  but  kept  always  on  the  bas- 
tion, or  went  to  the  blockhouse  to  see  how  the  peo- 
ple there  were  behaving.  I  always  kept  a  cheerful 
and  smiling  face,  and  encouraged  my  little  com- 
pany with  the  hope  of  speedy  succor. 

"  We  were  a  week  in  constant  alarm,  with  the 
enemy  always  about  us.  At  last  Monsieur  de  la 
Monnerie,  a  lieutenant  sent  by  Monsieur  de  Cal- 
li^res,  arrived  in  the  night  with  forty  men.  As  he 
did  not  know  whether  the  fort  was  taken  or  not,  he 
approached  as  silently  as  possible.  One  of  our 
sentinels,  hearing  a  slight  sound,  cried, '  Qui  vive?  * 

"  I  was  at  the  time  dozing,  with  my  head  on  a 
table  and  my  gun  lying  across  my  arms.  The  senti- 
nel told  me  that  he  heard  a  voice  from  the  river.  I 
went  up  at  once  to  the  bastion  to  see  whether  it 
was  Indians  or  Frenchmen.     I  asked,  *Who  are 


THE  HEROINE  OF  VERCH:^RES        205 

you?'  One  of  them  answered,  *We  are  French- 
men: it  is  La  Monnerie,  who  comes  to  bring  you 
help.' 

"  I  caused  the  gate  to  be  opened,  placed  a  sentinel 
there,  and  went  down  to  the  river  to  meet  them. 
As  soon  as  I  saw  Monsieur  de  la  Monnerie,  I  sa- 
luted him,  and  said,  '  Monsieur,  I  surrender  my 
arms  to  you.'  He  answered  gallantly,  '  Mademoi- 
selle, they  are  in  good  hands.'  '  Better  than  you 
think,'  I  returned.  He  inspected  the  fort  and  found 
everything  in  order,  and  a  sentinel  on  each  bastion. 
^  It  is  time  to  relieve  them,  Monsieur,'  said  I ;  '  we 
have  not  been  off  our  bastions  for  a  week.'  " 

A  band  of  converts  from  the  Saut  St.  Louis  ar- 
rived soon  after,  followed  the  trail  of  their  heathen 
countrymen,  overtook  them  on  Lake  Champlain, 
and  recovered  twenty  or  more  French  prisoners. 
Madeleine  de  Vercheres  was  not  the  only  heroine 
of  her  family.  Her  father's  fort  was  the  Castle 
Dangerous  of  Canada;  and  it  was  but  two  years 
before  that  her  mother,  left  with  three  or  four 
armed  men,  and  beset  by  the  Iroquois,  threw  her- 
self with  her  followers  into  the  blockhouse,  and 
held  the  assailants  two  days  at  bay,  till  the  Marquis 
de  Crisasy  came  with  troops  to  her  relief. 


MADELEINE  VERCHEEES 

William  Henry  Drummond 

I've  told  you  many  a  tale,  my  childj  of  the  old 
heroic  days 

Of  Indian  wars  and  massacre,  of  villages  ablaze 

With  savage  torch,  from  Ville  Marie  to  the  Mis- 
sion of  Trois  Rivieres 

But  never  have  I  told  you  yet,  of  Madeleine  Ver- 
cheres. 

Summer  had  come  with  its  blossoms,  and  gaily 
the  robin  sang 

And  deep  in  the  forest  arches  the  axe  of  the  wood- 
man rang. 

Again  in  the  waving  meadows,  the  sun-browned 
farmers  met 

And  out  on  the  green  St.  Lawrence,  the  fisher- 
man spread  his  net. 

And  so  through  the  pleasant  season,  till  the  days 
of  October  came 

When  children  wrought  with  their  parents,  and 
even  the  old  and  lame 

With  tottering  frames  and  footsteps,  their  feeble 
labors  lent 

At  the  gathering  of  the  harvest  le  bon  Dieu  him- 
self had  sent. 

206 


MADELEINE  VERCHEKES  207 

For  news  there  was  none  of  battle,  from  the  forts 
on  the  Richelieu 

To  the  gates  of  the  ancient  city,  where  the  flag 
of  King  Louis  flew ; 

All  peaceful  the  skies  hung  over  the  seigneurie 
of  Vercheres, 

Like  the  calm  that  so  often  cometh,  ere  the  hurri- 
cane rends  the  air. 

And  never  a  thought  of  danger  had  the  Seigneur 

sailing  away, 
To  join  the  soldiers  of  Carignan,  where  down  at 

Quebec  they  lay, 
But  smiled  on  his  little  daughter,  the  maiden 

Madeleine, 
And  a  necklet  of  jewels  promised  her,  when  home 

he  should  come  again. 

And  ever  the  days  passed  swiftly,  and  careless 
the  worlmien  grew 

For  the  months  they  seemed  a  hundred,  since  the 
last  war-bugle  blew. 

Ah !  little  they  dreamt  on  their  pillows,  the  farm- 
ers of  Vercheres, 

That  the  wolves  of  the  southern  forest  had 
scented  the  harvest  fair. 

Like  ravens  they  quickly  gather,  like  tigers  they 

watch  their  prey. 
Poor  people !  with  hearts  so  happy,  they  sang  as 

they  toiled  away, 


208     HEROINES  OF  HISTOKY  AND  LEGEND 

Till  tlie  murderous  eyeballs  glistened,  and  the 

tomahawk  leaped  out 
And  the  banks  of  the  green  St.  Lawrence  echoed 

the  savage  shout. 

"  Oh  mother  of  Christ  have  pity,"  shrieked  the 

women  in  despair, 
"  This  is  no  time  for  praying,"  cried  the  young 

Madeleine  Vercheres, 
"  Aux  armes !  aux  armes !  les  Iroquois !  quick  to 

your  arms  and  guns ! 
Fight  for  your  God  and  country  and  the  lives  of 

the  innocent  ones." 

And  she  sped  like  a  deer  of  the  mountain,  when 

beagles  press  close  behind, 
And  the  feet  that  would  follow  after,  must  be 

swift  as  the  prairie  wind. 
Alas !  for  the  men  and  women,  and  little  ones  that 

day; 
For  the  road  it  was  long  and  weary,  and  the  fort 

it  was  far  away. 

But  the  fawn  had  outstripped  the  hunters,  and 

the  palisades  drew  near. 
And  soon  from  the  inner  gateway  the  war-bugle 

rang  out  clear ; 
Gallant  and  clear  it  sounded,  with  never  a  note 

of  despair, 
'Twas  a  soldier  of  France's  challenge,  from  the 

young  Madeleine  Vercheres. 


MADELEINE  VERCHERES  209 

"  And  this  is  my  little  garrison,  my  brothers,  Louis 

and  Paul? 
With    soldiers    two — and   a    cripple?   may    the 

Virgin  pray  for  us  all. 
But  we've  powder  and  guns  in  plenty,  and  we'll 

fight  to  the  latest  breath, 
And  if  need  be  for  God  and  country,  die  a  brave 

soldier's  death. 

"  Load  all  the  carabines  quickly,  and  whenever  you 

sight  the  foe 
Fire  from  the  upper  turret,  and  the  loopholes 

down  below. 
Keep  up  the  fire,  brave  soldiers,  though  the  fight 

may  be  fierce  and  long, 
And  they'll  think  our  little  garrison  is  more  than 

a  hundred  strong." 

So  spake  the  maiden  Madeleine,  and  she  roused 

the  Norman  blood 
That  seemed  for  a  moment  sleeping,  and  sent  it 

like  a  flood 
Through  every  heart  around  her,  and  they  fought 

the  red  Iroquois 
As  fought  in  the  old-time  battles,  the  soldiers  of 

Carignan. 

And  they  say  the  black  clouds  gathered,  and  a 

tempest  swept  the  sky 
And  the  roar  of  the  thunder  mingled  with  the 

forest  tiger's  cry ; 


210    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

But  still  the  garrison  fought  on,  while  the  light- 
ning's jagged  spear 

Tore  a  hole  in  the  night's  dark  curtain,  and 
showed  them  a  foeman  near. 

And  the  sun  rose  up  in  the  morning,  and  the 
color  of  blood  was  he, 

Gazing  down  from  the  heavens  on  the  little  com- 
pany. 
"  Behold !  my  friends !  "  cried  the  maiden,  "  'tis  a 
warning  lest  we  forget ; 

Though  the  night  saw  us  do  our  duty,  our  work 
is  not  finished  yet." 

And  six  days  followed  each  other,  and  feeble  her 

limbs  became 
Yet  the  maid  never  sought  her  pillow,  and  the 

flash  of  the  carabines'  flame 
Illumined  the  powder-smoked  faces,  aye,  even 

when  hope  seemed  gone. 
And  she  only  smiled  on  her  comrades,  and  told 

them  to  fight,  fight  on. 

And  she  blew  a  blast  on  the  bugle,  and  lo !  from 

the  forest  black 
Merrily,  merrily  ringing,  an  answer  came  pealing 

back. 
Oh !  pleasant  and  sweet  it  sounded,  borne  on  the 

morning  air. 
For  it  heralded  fifty  soldiers,  with  gallant  De  la 

Monniere. 


MADELEINE  VERCHEKES  211 

And  when  he  beheld  the  maiden,  the  soldier  of 

Carignan, 
And  looked  on  the  little  garrison  that  fought  the 

red  Iroquois 
And  held  their  own  in  the  battle,  for  six  long 

weary  days, 
He  stood  for  a  moment  speechless,  and  marveled 

at  woman's  ways. 

Then  he  beckoned  the  men  behind  him  and  stead- 
ily they  advance, 

And  with  carabines  uplifted,  the  veterans  of 
France 

Saluted  the  brave  young  Captain  so  timidly 
standing  there, 

And  they  fired  a  volley  in  honor  of  Madeleine 
Vercheres. 

And  this,  my  dear,  is  the  story  of  the  maiden 

Madeleine. 
God  grant  that  we  in  Canada  may  never  see  again 
Such  cruel  wars  and  massacres,  in  waking  or  in 

dream. 
As  our  fathers  and  mothers  saw,  my  child,  in  the 

days  of  the  old  regime. 


heartbreae:  hill 

Celia  Thaxter 

In  Ipswich  town,  not  far  from  the  sea, 
Rises  a  hill  which  the  people  call 

Heartbreak  Hill,  and  its  history 
Is  an  old,  old  legend,  known  to  all. 

The  selfsame  dreary,  worn-out  tale 
Told  by  all  peoples  in  every  clime, 

Still  to  be  told  till  the  ages  fail, 
And  there  comes  a  pause  in  the  march  of 
Time. 

It  was  a  sailor  who  won  the  heart 

Of  an  Indian  maiden,  lithe  and  young; 

And  she  saw  him  over  the  sea  depart. 
While  sweet  in  her  ear  his  promise  rung ; 

For  he  cried,  as  he  kissed  her  wet  eyes  dry, 
"  I'll    come   back,    sweetheart ;    keep    your 

faith ! " 
She  said,  "  I  will  watch  while  the  moons  go 
by:" 
Her  love  was  stronger  than  life  or  death. 
212 


HEARTBREAK  HILL  213 

So  this  poor  dusk  Ariadne  kept 
Her   watcli   from   tke  hilltop   rugged   and 
steep ; 
Slowly  the  empty  moments  crept 
While  she  studied  the  changing  face  of  the 
deep, 

Fastening  her  eyes  upon  every  speck 
That  crossed  the  ocean  within  her  ken ; 

Might  not  her  lover  be  walking  the  deck, 
Surely  and  swiftly  retiu-ning  again? 

The  Isles  of  Shoals  loomed,  lonely  and  dim, 
In  the  northeast  distance  far  and  gray, 

And  on  the  horizon's  uttermost  rim 
The  low  rock  heap  of  Boon  Island  lay. 

And  north  and  south  and  west  and  east 

Stretched  sea  and  land  in  the  blinding  light, 

Till  evening  fell,  and  her  vigil  ceased. 
And  many  a  hearth-glow  lit  the  night, 

To  mock  those  set  and  glittering  eyes 
Fast  growing  wild  as  her  hope  went  out. 

Hateful  seemed  earth,  and  the  hollow  skies, 
Like  her  own  heart,  empty  of  aught  but 
doubt. 

Oh,  but  the  weary,  merciless  days. 

With  the  sun  above,  with  the  sea  afar,— 

No  change  in  her  fixed  and  wistful  gaze 
From  the  morning-red  to  the  evening  star! 


214    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Oh,  the  winds  that  blew,  and  the  birds  that 
sang, 
The  calms  that  smiled,  and  the  storms  that 
rolled, 
The  bells  from  the  town  beneath,  that  rang 
Through  the  summer's  heat  and  the  winter's 
cold! 


The  flash  of  the  plunging  surges  white, 
The  soaring  gull's  wild,  boding  cry, — 

She  was  weary  of  all ;  there  was  no  delight 
In  heaven  or  earth,  and  she  longed  to  die. 


What  was  it  to  her  though  the  Dawn  should 
paint 

With  delicate  beauty  skies  and  seas? 
But  the  sweet,  sad  sunset  splendors  faint 

Made  her  soul  sick  with  memories : 


Drowning  in  sorrowful  purple  a  sail 

In  the  distant  east,  where  shadows  grew, 

Till  the  twilight  shrouded  it,  cold  and  pale. 
And  the  tide  of  her  anguish  rose  anew. 


Like  a  slender  statue  carved  of  stone 
She  sat,  with  hardly  motion  or  breath. 

She  wept  no  tears  and  she  made  no  moan, 
But  her  love  was  stronger  than  life  or  death. 


HEARTBKEAK  HILL  215 

He  never  came  back !    Yet  faithful  still, 
She  watched  from  the  hilltop  her  life  away. 

And  the  townsfolk  christened  it  Heartbreak 
Hill, 
And  it  bears  the  name  to  this  very  day. 


WELCOME  TO  SKYE 

A  Jacobite  Song 

There  are  twa  bonny  maidens, 
And  three  bonny  maidens, 
Come  over  the  Minch, 
And  come  over  the  main, 
Wi'  the  wind  for  their  way, 
And  the  corrie  for  their  hame : 
Let  us  welcome  them  bravely 
Unto  Skye  again. 
Come  along,  come  along, 
Wi'  your  boatie  and  your  song, 
You  twa  bonny  maidens, 
And  three  bonny  maidens ; 
For  the  night  it  is  dark, 
And  the  red-coat  is  gone, 
And  you're  bravely  welcome 
To  Skye  again. 

There  is  Flora,  my  honey. 
So  dear  and  so  bonny. 
And  one  that  is  tall. 
And  comely  withal ; 
Put  the  one  as  my  king, 
And  the  other  as  my  queen, 
They're  welcome  unto 
The  Isle  of  Slije  again. 
216 


WELCOME  TO  SKYE  217 

Come  along,  come  along, 
Wi'  your  boatie  and  your  song. 
You  twa  bonny  maidens, 
And  three  bonny  maidens ; 
For  the  lady  of  Macoulain 
She  lieth  her  lane. 
And  you're  bravely  welcome 
To  Skye  again. 


Her  arm  it  is  strong. 
And  her  petticoat  is  long. 
My  one  bonny  maiden, 
And  twa  bonny  maidens; 
But  their  bed  shall  be  clean, 
On  the  heather  mast  crain ; 
And  they're  welcome  unto 
The  Isle  of  Skye  again. 
Come  along,  come  along, 
Wi'  your  boatie  and  your  song, 
You  one  bonny  maiden. 
And  twa  bonny  maidens. 
By  the  sea-moullit's  nest 
I  will  watch  o'er  the  main; 
And  you're  dearly  welcome 
To  Skye  again. 

There's  a  wind  on  the  tree, 
And  a  ship  on  the  sea, 
My  twa  bonny  maidens, 
My  three  bonny  maidens : 


218    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

On  the  lea  of  the  rock 
Your  cradle  I  shall  rock ; 
And  you're  welcome  unto 
The  Isle  of  Skye  again. 
Come  along,  come  along, 
Wi'  your  boatie  and  your  song, 
My  twa  bonny  maidens. 
And  three  bonny  maidens : 
More  sound  shall  you  sleep, 
Wlien  you  rock  on  the  deep ; 
And  you'll  aye  be  welcome 
To  Skye  again. 


FLORA  MACDONALD,  THE  HEROItTE  OF 
THE  "  FORTY-FIVE  " 

Frank  Mundell 

Charles  Edwaed  Stuart,  the  "  Bonnie  Prince 
Charlie  "  of  song  and  story,  known  in  history  as  the 
"  Young  Pretender,"  endeavored  in  1745  to  win 
back  the  throne  which  his  forefathers  had  lost. 
Though  victorious  at  Prestonpans  and  at  Falkirk, 
Charles  was  driven  northwards  by  the  royal  troops, 
and  falling  back  on  Inverness  he  made  his  last 
stand  at  Culloden,  where  the  hopes  of  the  Stuarts 
were  forever  shattered.  After  his  defeat,  the  Prince 
was  hurried  from  the  field  of  battle  by  several  of 
his  ofS-cers,  and  spent  the  night  in  an  empty  house 
without  covering  or  food. 

On  the  following  day,  with  three  companions, 
and  carefully  disguised,  Charles  entered  Lochiel's 
country,  and  proceeded  on  foot  over  mountain  and 
moor  on  his  way  to  the  Western  Isles,  where  he 
hoped  to  be  able  to  get  on  board  a  vessel  for  France. 

By  this  time  a  reward  of  thirty  thousand  pounds 
had  been  set  on  the  Prince's  head,  and  therefore  it 
was  of  the  utmost  importance  to  conceal  his  iden- 
tity from  every  one  whose  loyalty  was  suspected. 
He  could  hardly  hope  to  escape,  for  warships  were 

219 


220    HEKOlKES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

cruising  along  the  coast,  militia  were  scouring  the 
hills,  and  Government  spies  were  spread  in  all  di- 
rections. The  fidelity  of  his  followers  was  tested 
to  the  utmost,  but,  though  the  reward  offered  would 
have  been  to  any  of  them  an  immense  fortune,  there 
was  not  one  found  base  enough  to  betray  the  fugi- 
tive. 

At  length  the  islands  of  the  west  coast  were 
reached,  and  in  a  wild  spot  in  South  Uist  the  Prince 
lay  concealed  for  a  month.  Scouts,  at  the  risk  of 
their  lives,  surrounded  the  place  of  his  retreat,  and 
were  ready  at  a  moment's  notice  to  guide  him  by 
secret  paths  to  a  new  hiding-place  on  the  first  ap- 
pearance of  danger. 

At  length  the  Prince  was  so  hemmed  in,  both  by 
land  and  sea,  that  it  was  necessary  to  make  a  bold 
attempt  to  get  him  out  of  the  country,  and,  as  a 
last  resource,  a  young  lady  named  Flora  Macdonald 
was  applied  to  for  her  assistance.  She  was  the 
stepdaughter  of  Hugh  Macdonald,  an  officer  in  the 
King's  army,  but  secretly  a  friend  of  the  Stuarts. 
Miss  Macdonald  was  at  that  time  twenty-four  years 
of  age,  of  middle  stature,  a  pretty,  agreeable  young 
woman,  of  great  sprightliness,  modesty,  and  good- 
sense. 

The  first  interview  between  the  Prince  and  Flora 
took  place  on  the  island  of  Benbocula,  where  it  was 
arranged  that  Charles  should  dress  as  a  woman, 
and  be  passed  off  as  Betty  Burke,  maid  to  Miss 
Macdonald.  Before  they  started,  Flora  was  made 
prisoner  by  the  militia  because  she  had  no  passport. 


Floka  MacDonald. 
From  Pn'uiting  by  Allan  Ramsay. 


FLORA  MACDONALD  221 

It  so  happened,  however,  that  the  commanding 
of&cer  was  her  stei)father,  who  furnished  her  with 
a  passport  for  herself,  her  man,  named  Neil  Make- 
chan,  and  her  maid  Betty  Burke. 

On  the  28th  of  June,  about  eight  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  they  embarked  in  a  small  boat,  but  on  ap- 
proaching the  island  of  Skye  they  found  the  place 
where  they  intended  to  land  in  possession  of  the 
militia.  Shots  were  fired  on  the  boat  and  an  alarm 
was  given,  but  the  little  party  got  safe  into  a  creek, 
where  they  rested  for  a  time.  Then  they  succeeded 
in  landing  on  another  point  of  the  island.  Here 
the  Prince  was  left  in  the  boat  while  Flora  called 
on  Lady  Macdonald,  who,  in  an  agony  of  terror,  in- 
sisted on  their  immediate  departure,  as  there  were 
soldiers  in  the  neighborhood. 

Fortunately,  Macdonald  of  Kingsburgh,  Lady 
Macdonald's  factor,  offered  to  assist  in  conveying 
the  Prince  to  Portree,  and  for  this  purpose  accom- 
panied Miss  Macdonald  to  the  shore.  A  servant 
who  was  with  him  said  to  Miss  Macdonald  that  she 
had  never  seen  such  an  impudent-looking  woman 
as  Betty  Burke,  who  she  thought  must  be  a  man  in 
woman's  clothes.  "  See,"  she  said,  "  what  long 
strides  the  jade  takes,  and  how  awkwardly  she 
manages  her  petticoats." 

It  was  near  midnight  when  the  little  party  ar- 
rived at  Macdonald  of  Kingsburgh's  house,  and, 
not  expecting  her  husband  at  so  late  an  hour,  Mrs. 
Macdonald  had  retired  for  the  night.  Unwilling 
to  rise,  the  lady  sent  her  compliments  to  Flora 


222    HEROmES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Macdonald,  whom  she  knew;  and  desired  her  to 
make  free  with  anything  in  the  house;  as  for  her- 
self she  was  too  sleepy  and  tired  to  see  her  that 
night.  Directly  afterwards  her  little  daughter  ran 
into  the  room,  crying  out,  "  Mamma !  mamma !  my 
father  has  brought  hither  a  very  odd,  muckle,  ill- 
shaken-up  wife  as  ever  I  saw." 

Kingsburgh  himself  then  entered  the  room,  and 
desired  his  wife  to  rise  at  once  and  prepare  the  best 
supper  she  could.  In  reply  to  her  question  about 
his  guests,  he  told  her  that  she  should  know  in  good 
time  who  they  were.  Mi^.  Macdonald  at  once  com- 
plied with  her  husband's  request,  but  when  she  saw 
her  visitor  she  "  was  so  frightened,"  as  she  said, 
"  at  seeing  sic  a  muckle  trollop  of  a  carlin  make 
sic  lang  strides  through  the  hall,  ^iiat  she  did  not 
like  her  appearance." 

When  the  strange  figure  bent  down  and  kissed 
her,  she  saw  it  was  a  man,  and  in  a  whisper  asked 
her  husband  if  their  visitor  was  one  of  the  unfor- 
tunate gentlemen  escaped  from  Culloden.  On  hear- 
ing that  such  was  the  case,  she  wished  to  know  if 
he  could  tell  them  anything  about  the  Prince. 

"  My  dear,  it  is  the  Prince,"  said  her  husband. 

"  The  Prince ! "  cried  she ;  "  then  we  are  all 
ruined,  we  shall  all  be  hanged." 

"  Hout,"  cried  he,  "  we  shall  die  but  once ;  and 
if  we  are  hanged  for  this,  we  die  in  a  good  cause, 
doing  only  an  act  of  humanity  and  charity.  But 
go,  make  haste  with  supper.  Bring  us  eggs,  butter, 
cheese,  and  whatever  else  is  ready." 


FLOKA  MACDONALD  223 

"  Eggs,  butter,  cheese !  "  was  the  reply.  "  What 
a  supper  is  that  for  a  Prince?  " 

"  Oh,  wife,"  said  her  husband,  "  you  little  know 
how  this  good  Prince  has  lived  of  late.  This  will 
be  a  feast  to  hiin.  Besides,  to  make  a  formal  sup- 
per would  cause  the  servants  to  suspect  something. 
The  less  ceremony,  therefore,  the  better." 

At  supper  the  Prince  placed  Miss  Flora  Mac- 
donald  at  his  right  hand,  always  paying  her  the 
greatest  respect  wherever  she  was,  and  Mrs.  Mac- 
donald  at  his  left.  The  plentiful  meal,  so  different 
from  his  late  hard  fare,  and  the  cheerful  surround- 
ings, caused  the  Prince,  for  a  brief  period,  to  forget 
his  miserable  condition  and  the  dangers  by  which 
he  was  surrounded. 

In  the  meantime  the  boatmen  who  had  brought 
the  party  to  the  island  had  gone  back  to  South  Uist, 
where  they  were  at  once  seized  by  the  militia,  and, 
being  threatened  with  torture  or  death,  revealed 
all  they  loiew.  They  gave  a  description  of  the 
gown,  with  purple  sprigs  thickly  stamped,  and  the 
white  apron  worn  by  the  disguised  Prince.  It  was 
therefore  very  fortunate  that  on  the  following  day 
the  Prince  changed  his  clothes  for  a  man's  dress. 

Not  having  slept  in  a  bed  for  some  time  before, 
the  Prince  could  scarcely  be  awakened  in  the  morn- 
ing; but,  as  everything  was  ready  to  continue  the 
journey,  Kingsburgh  was  obliged  to  call  him  up. 
When  he  was  dressed,  the  ladies  went  into  his  room, 
and  Mrs.  Macdonald  asked  for  a  lock  of  his  hair. 
He  at  once  complied  with  her  request,  and  the  lock 


224    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

so  given  was  divided  between  the  ladies.  Kings- 
burgh,  gave  the  Prince  a  new  pair  of  shoes,  and  re- 
ligiously kept  the  worn  ones.  They  were  after- 
wards cut  into  small  pieces  and  distributed  among 
Jacobite  friends.  The  sheets  of  the  bed  in  which 
the  Prince  had  slept  were  preserved  by  the  two 
ladies,  and  at  death  they  served  them  as  shrouds — 
"  pathetic  memoirs  of  a  devotion  that  was  sweeter 
than  life  and  stronger  than  death." 

After  breakfast  Kingsburgh  went  with  his  guest 
for  a  short  distance  on  the  way,  and  when  they 
parted  the  Prince  embraced  his  host,  and  bade  him 
a  long  and  happy  adieu.  Thanking  him  for  his 
services  in  a  most  affectionate  manner,  the  Prince 
assured  Kingsburgh  that  he  would  never  forget 
them. 

A  guide  led  Charles  by  secret  paths  to  Portree, 
while  Miss  Macdonald  went  on  horseback  another 
road;  thereby  the  better  to  gain  intelligence  and 
to  prevent  discovery.  Another  person  had  also 
been  sent  forward  to  have  a  boat  in  readiness.  Half 
a  mile  from  the  shore  the  Prince  met  Flora  and 
bade  her  farewell.  Taking  her  hand  in  his  "he 
gazed  down  for  a  minute  on  the  fair  young  face,  and 
the  eyes  dimmed  with  tears  but  bright  with  the 
expression  of  profound  fidelity  of  her  race,  then  he 
reverently  bared  his  head,  and,  bending  down, 
kissed  her  twice  on  the  forehead.  *For  all  that 
has  happened,'  he  said,  ^  I  hope,  madam,  we  shall 
meet  in  St.  James'  yet.'  "  Then  they  parted,  ne^er 
to  meet  again. 


THE  LAMENT  OF  FLORA  MACDONALD 

James  Hogg 

Far  over  yon  hills  of  the  heather  so  green, 

And  down  by  the  corrie  that  sings  to  the  sea, 
The  bonny  young  Flora  sat  sighing  her  lane, 

The  dew  on  her  plaid  and  the  tear  in  her  e'e. 
She  looked  at  a  boat  with  the  breezes  that  swung 

Away  on  the  wave,  like  a  bird  of  the  main ; 
And  aye  as  it  lessened,  she  sighed  and  she  sung, 
"  Fareweel  to  the  lad  I  shall  ne'er  see  again ! 
Fareweel  to  my  hero,  the  gallant  and  young ! 

Fareweel  to  the  lad  I  shall  ne'er  see  again ! 

"  The  moorcock  that  craws  on  the  brow  of  Ben- 
Connal, 
He  kens  o'  his  bed  in  a  sweet  mossy  hame ; 
The  eagle  that  soars  o'er  the  cliffs  o'  Clan-Ronald, 

Unawed  and  unhunted,  his  eyrie  can  claim ; 
The  solan  can  sleep  on  his  shelve  of  the  shore ; 
The  cormorant  roost  on  his  rock  of  the  sea : 
But,  ah !  there  is  one  whose  hard  fate  I  deplore ; 
Nor  house,  ha',  nor  hame,  in  his  country  has  he. 
The  conflict  is  past,  and  our  name  is  no  more: 
There's  nought  left  but  sorrow  for  Scotland 
and  me. 

225 


226    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

"  The  target  is  torn  from  the  arms  of  the  just, 
The  helmet  is  cleft  on  the  brow  of  the  brave, 
The  claymore  for  ever  in  darkness  must  rust, 

But  red  is  the  sword  of  the  stranger  and  slave : 

The  hoof  of  the  horse,  and  the  foot  of  the  proud. 

Have    trod  o'er  the  plumes  on  the  bonnets  of 

blue. 

Why  slept  the  red  bolt  in  the  breast  of  the  cloud. 

When  tyranny  revelled  in  blood  of  the  true? 
Fareweel,  my  young  hero,  the  gallant  and  good ! 
The  crown  of  thy  fathers  is  torn  from  thy 
brow.'' 


CAPTAIN  MOLLY  AT  MONMOUTH 

William  Collins 

On  the  bloody  field  of  Monmouth. 

Flashed  the  guns  of  Greene  and  Wayne ; 
Fiercely  roared  the  tide  of  battle, 

Thick  the  sward  was  heaped  with  slain. 
Foremost,  facing  death  and  danger, 

Hessian  horse,  and  grenadier, 
In  the  vanguard,  fiercely  fighting, 

Stood  an  Irish  cannoneer. 

Loudly  roared  his  iron  cannon, 

Mingling  ever  in  the  strife. 
And  beside  him,  firm  and  daring. 

Stood  his  faithful  Irish  wife. 
Of  her  bold  contempt  of  danger 

Greene  and  Lee's  Brigades  could  teU, 
Every  one  knew  "  Captain  Molly," 

And  the  army  loved  her  well. 

Surged  the  roar  of  battle  round  them, 

Swiftly  flew  the  iron  hail, 
Forward  dashed  a  thousand  bayonets. 

That  lone  battery  to  assail. 
From  the  foeman's  foremost  columns 

Swept  a  furious  fusillade. 
Mowing  down  the  massed  battalions 

In  the  ranks  of  Greene's  Brigade. 
227 


228    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Fast  and  faster  worked  the  gunner, 

Soiled  with  powder,  blood,  and  dust, 
English  bayonets  shone  before  him. 

Shot  and  shell  around  him  burst ; 
Still  he  fought  with  reckless  daring, 

Stood  and  manned  her  long  and  well, 
Till  at  last  the  gallant  fellow 

Dead — beside  his  cannon  fell. 

With  a  bitter  cry  of  sorrow. 

And  a  dark  and  angry  frown, 
Looked  that  band  of  gallant  patriots 
At  their  gunner  stricken  down. 
"  Fall  back,  comrades !    It  is  folly 
Thus  to  strive  against  the  foe." 
"  No !  not  so,"  cried  Irish  Molly ; 
"  We  can  strike  another  blow !  " 

Quicldy  leaped  she  to  the  cannon, 
In  her  fallen  husband's  place. 

Sponged  and  rammed  it  fast  and  steady, 
Fired  it  in  the  foeman's  face. 

Flashed  another  ringing  volley, 
Roared  another  from  the  gun ; 
"  Boys,  hurrah !  "  cried  gallant  Molly, 

"  For  the  flag  of  Washington !  " 

Greene's  Brigade,  though  shorn  and  shat- 
tered, 

Slain  and  bleeding  half  their  men, 
"V^Hien  they  heard  that  Irish  slogan, 

Turned  and  charged  the  foe  again. 


CAPTAIN  MOLLY  AT  MONMOUTH      229 

Knox  and  Wayne  and  Morgan  rally, 
To  the  front  they  forward  wheel, 

And  before  their  rushing  onset 
Clinton's  English  columns  reel. 

Still  the  cannon's  voice  in  anger 

Rolled  and  rattled  o'er  the  plain, 
Till  there  lay  in  swarms  around  it 

Mangled  heaps  of  Hessian  slain. 
*'  Forward !  charge  them  with  the  bayonet !  " 

'Twas  the  voice  of  Washington ; 
And  there  burst  a  fiery  greeting 

From  the  Irish  woman's  gun. 

Monckton  falls ;  against  his  columns 

Leap  the  troops  of  Wayne  and  Lee, 
And  before  their  reeking  bayonets 

Clinton's  red  battalions  flee. 
Morgan's  rifles,  flercely  flashing. 

Thin  the  foe's  retreating  ranks. 
And  behind  them,  onward  dashing, 

Ogden  hovers  on  their  flanks. 

Fast  they  fly,  these  boasting  Britons, 

Who  in  all  their  glory  came, 
With  their  brutal  Hessian  hirelings 

To  wipe  out  our  country's  name. 
Proudly  floats  the  starry  banner ; 

Monmouth's  glorious  fleld  is  won; 
And  in  triumph  Irish  Molly 

Stands  beside  her  smoking  gun. 


AGOSTINA  OF  ZARAGOZA 

Charlotte  M.  Yonge 

One  of  the  most  unjustifiable  acts  of  ^Napoleon's 
grasping  policy  was  the  manner  in  which  he  en- 
trapped the  poor,  foolish,  weak  Spanish  royal  fam- 
ily into  his  power,  and  then  kept  them  in  captivity, 
and  gave  their  kingdom  to  his  brother  Joseph.  The 
whole  Spanish  people  were  roused  to  resistance  by 
this  atrocious  transfer,  and  the  whole  of  the  peas- 
antry rose,  as  one  man,  to  repel  this  shameful  ag- 
gression. A  long  course  of  bad  government  had  done 
much  to  destroy  the  vigor  of  the  nation,  and  as 
soldiers  in  the  open  field  they  were  utterly  worth- 
less ;  but  still  there  were  high  qualities  of  patience 
and  perseverance  among  them,  and  these  were 
never  more  fully  shown  than  in  their  defense  of 
Zaragoza,  the  ancient  capital  of  the  kingdom  of 
Aragon. 

This  city  stands  in  an  open  plain,  covered  with 
olive  grounds,  and  closed  in  by  high  mountains. 
About  a  mile  to  the  southwest  of  the  city  was  some 
high  ground  called  the  Torrero,  upon  which  stood 
a  convent,  and  close  beside  the  city  flowed  the  Ebro, 
crossed  by  two  bridges,  one  of  which  was  made  of 
wood,  and  said  to  be  the  most  beautiful  specimen 
of  the  kind  of  fabric  in  Europe.    The  water  is  of  a 

230 


AGOSTINA  OF  ZAKAGOZA  231 

dirty  red,  but  grows  clear  when  it  has  stood  long 
enough  and  is  then  excellent  to  drink. 

There  were  no  regular  fortifications,  only  a  brick 
wall,  ten  or  twelve  feet  high,  and  three  feet  thick, 
and  often  encroached  upon  by  houses.  Part  of  it 
was,  however,  of  old  Eoman  workmanship,  hav- 
ing been  built  under  Augustus,  by  whom  the  town 
was  called  Csesarea  Augusta,  a  name  since  cor- 
rupted into  Zaragoza.  Four  of  the  twelve  gates 
were  in  this  old  wall,  which  was  so  well  built  as  to 
put  to  shame  all  the  modern  buildings  and  their 
bad  bricks.  These  were  the  material  of  even  the 
churches  and  convents,  all  alike  with  the  houses, 
and  so  bad  was  the  construction  that  there  were 
cracks  in  most  of  the  buildings  from  top  to  bottom. 
The  houses  were  generally  three  stories  high,  the 
streets  very  narrow  and  crooked,  except  one  wide 
and  long  one,  called  sometimes  the  Calle  Santa, 
sometimes  the  Cozo. 

Zaragoza  was  highly  esteemed  as  the  first  seat 
of  Christianity  in  Spain;  indeed,  legend  declared 
that  St.  James  the  Great  had  preached  there,  and 
had  beheld  a  vision  of  the  blessed  Virgin,  standing 
upon  a  marble  pillar,  and  bidding  him  there  build 
a  church  in  honor  of  her.  The  pillar  was  the  great 
object  of  veneration  in  Aragon,  and  there  was  a 
double  cathedral,  with  service  performed  alter- 
nately in  the  two  parts.  So  much  venerated  was 
our  Lady  of  the  Pillar,  that  Pilar  became  a  girl's 
name  in  the  surrounding  country,  and  this  was  the 
center  of  pilgrimages  to  the  Aragonese,  as   St. 


232    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

James's  shrine  at  Compostella  was  to  the  Castil- 
ians. 

As  is  well  said  by  Southey,  in  the  fiery  trial  of 
the  Zaragozans,  "  the  dross  and  tinsel  of  their  faith 
disappeared,  and  its  pure  gold  remained."  The 
inhabitants  appeared,  like  most  Spaniards  since 
the  blight  of  Philip  II's  policy  had  fallen  on  them, 
dull,  apathetic  beings,  too  proud  and  indolent  for 
exertion — ^the  men  smoking  cigaritos  at  their  doors, 
the  women  only  coming  out  with  black  silk  mantil- 
las over  their  heads  to  go  to  church.  The  French, 
on  first  seizing  it,  with  the  rest  of  Spain,  thought 
it  the  dullest  place  they  had  ever  yet  entered,  and 
greatly  despised  the  inhabitants. 

General  Lefebvre  Desnouettes  was  sent  to  quiet 
the  insurrection  against  the  French  in  Aragon ;  and 
on  the  13th  and  14th  of  June,  1808,  he  easily  routed 
the  bodies  of  Spaniards  who  tried  to  oppose  him. 
The  flying  Spanish  troops  were  pursued  into  Zara- 
goza  by  the  French  cavalry,  but  here  the  inhabit- 
ants were  able  from  their  houses  to  drive  back  the 
enemy.  Don  Jose  Palafox,  a  Spanish  nobleman, 
who  had  been  equerry  to  the  Xing,  took  the  com- 
mand of  the  garrison,  who  were  only  two  hundred 
and  twenty  soldiers,  and  endeavored  to  arm  the 
inhabitants,  about  sixty  thousand  in  number,  and 
all  full  of  the  most  determined  spirit  of  resistance 
to  the  invaders.  He  had  only  sixteen  cannon  and 
a  few  muskets,  but  fowling-pieces  were  collected, 
and  pikes  were  forged  by  all  the  smiths  in  the 
town. 


AGOSTINA  OF  ZARAGOZA  233 

The  siege  began  on  the  27th  of  June.  The  French 
army  was  in  considerable  force,  and  had  a  great 
supply  of  mortars  and  battering  cannon;  such  as 
could  by  their  shells  and  shot  rend  the  jDOor  brick 
city  from  end  to  end.  The  Torrero  quickly  fell 
into  their  hands,  and  from  that  height  there  was 
a  constant  discharge  of  those  terrible  shells  and 
grenades  that  burst  in  pieces  where  they  fall,  and 
carry  destruction  everywhere.  Not  one  building 
within  the  city  could  withstand  them,  and  they 
were  fired,  not  at  the  walls,  but  into  the  town.  All 
that  could  be  done  was  to  place  beams  slanting 
against  the  houses,  so  that  there  might  be  a  shelter 
under  them  from  the  shells.  The  awnings  that 
sheltered  the  windows  from  the  summer  sun  were 
taken  down,  sewn  up  into  sacks,  and  filled  with 
earth,  then  piled  up  before  the  gates,  with  a  deep 
trench  dug  before  them;  the  houses  on  the  walls 
were  pulled  down,  and  every  effort  made  to 
strengthen  the  defenses — the  whole  of  the  lately 
quiet,  lazy  population  toiling  earnestly  together,  in 
the  midst  of  the  deadly  shower  that  was  always 
falling  from  the  Torrero  and  striking  down  num- 
bers as  they  worked. 

The  same  spirit  animated  every  one.  The 
Countess  Burita,  a  beautiful  young  lady,  formed 
the  women  into  an  organized  company  for  carrying 
wine,  water,  and  food  to  the  soldiers  on  guard,  and 
relieving  the  wounded,  and  throughout  the  whole 
siege  her  courage  and  perseverance  never  failed; 
she  was  continually  seen  in  the  places  most  exposed 


234    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

to  the  enemy's  fire,  bringing  help  and  refreshment 
wherever  she  appeared  among  the  hard-pressed 
warriors.  The  nuns  became  nurses  to  the  sick  and 
wounded,  and  made  cartridges,  which  were  carried 
to  the  defenders  by  the  children  of  the  place.  The 
monks  attended  the  sick  and  dying,  or  else  bore 
arms,  feeling  that  this — the  cause  of  their  country, 
their  king  and  their  faith — ^had  become  to  them  a 
holy  war. 

Thus  men,  women  and  children  alike  seemed  full 
of  the  same  loyal  spirit;  but  some  traitor  must 
have  been  among  them,  for  on  the  night  of  the 
twenty-eighth,  the  powder  magazine  in  the  center  of 
the  town  was  blown  up,  destroying  fourteen  houses 
and  killing  two  hundred  people.  At  the  same  time, 
evidently  prepared  to  profit  by  the  confusion  thus 
caused,  the  French  appeared  before  three  of  the 
gates,  and  a  dreadful  fire  began  from  the  Torrero, 
shells  bursting  everywhere  among  the  citizens,  who 
were  striving  in  the  dark  to  dig  their  friends  out 
of  the  ruined  houses. 

The  worst  of  the  attack  was  at  the  gate  called 
Portillo  and  lasted  the  whole  day.  The  sand-bag 
defense  was  frequently  destroyed  by  the  fire,  and 
as  often  renewed  under  this  dreadful  shot  by  the 
undaunted  Spaniards.  So  dreadful  was  the  car- 
nage, that  at  one  moment  every  man  of  the  defend- 
ers lay  dead.  At  that  moment  one  of  the  women 
who  were  carrying  refreshments  came  up.  Her 
name  was  Agostina  Zaragoza ;  she  was  a  fine-look- 
ing woman  of  two-and-twenty,  and  was  full  of  a 


AGOSTINA  OF  ZAEAGOZA  235 

determined  sx)irit.  She  saw  the  citizens  hesitate  to 
step  forward  to  man  the  defenses  where  certain 
death  awaited  them.  Springing  forward,  she 
caught  the  match  from  the  hand  of  a  dead  gunner, 
fired  his  twenty-six  pounder,  and  seating  herself  on 
it,  declared  it  her  charge  for  the  rest  of  the  siege. 
And  she  kept  her  word.  She  was  the  heroine  of  the 
siege  where  all  were  heroines. 

She  is  generally  called  the  Maid  of  Zaragoza,  but 
she  seems  to  have  been  the  widow  of  one  of  the 
artillerymen,  who  was  here  killed,  and  that  she 
continued  to  serve  his  gun,  not  solely  as  a  patriot, 
but  because  she  thus  obtained  a  right  to  provisions 
for  her  little  children,  who  otherwise  might  have 
starved  in  the  famine  that  began  to  prevail.  If  this 
lessens  the  romance,  it  seems  to  us  to  add  to  the 
beauty  and  womanliness  of  Agostiua's  character, 
that  for  the  sake  of  her  children  she  should  have 
run  into  the  hottest  of  the  peril,  and  taken  up  the 
task  in  which  her  husband  had  died. 

Her  readiness  in  that  critical  moment  saved  the 
Portillo  for  that  time,  but  the  attacks  were  renewed 
again  and  again  with  equal  fury  and  fearful  blood- 
shed. The  French  general  had  fancied  that  he 
could  easily  take  such  an  unfortified  place,  and 
finding  it  so  difdcult,  had  lost  his  temper,  and  was 
thus  throwing  away  his  men's  lives ;  but  after  sev- 
eral such  failures,  he  began  to  invest  the  city  regu- 
larly. Gunpowder  was  failing  the  besieged  until 
they  supplied  its  place  by  wonderful  ingenuity. 
All  the  sulphur  in  the  place  was  collected,  nitre 


236    HEROINES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGEND 

was  obtained  by  washing  it  out  of  tlie  soil  of  the 
streets,  and  charcoal  by  charring  the  stalks  of  the 
very  large  variety  of  hemp  that  grows  in  that  part 
of  Spain.  At  the  end  of  forty-six  days  the  city  was 
entirely  surrounded,  provisions  were  falling  short, 
and  there  was  not  a  single  place  safe  from  the  shot 
and  shell.  On  the  2d  of  August,  a  hospital  caught 
fire,  and  the  courage  of  the  women  was  again 
shown  by  their  exertions  in  carrying  out  the  sick 
and  wounded  from  the  flames  in  spite  of  the  con- 
tinued shot  from  the  enemy's  batteries;  indeed, 
throughout  the  siege  the  number  of  women  and  boys 
who  were  killed  was  quite  as  great  in  proportion  as 
that  of  men;  the  only  difftculty  was  to  keep  them 
from  running  needlessly  into  danger. 

On  the  4th  of  August,  the  French  opened  a  bat- 
tery within  pistol-shot  of  the  gate  called  after  the 
great  convent  of  St.  Engracia.  The  mud  walls 
were  leveled  at  the  first  discharge  and  after  a  deadly 
struggle  the  besiegers  forced  their  way  into  the 
convent,  and  before  the  end  of  the  day  had  gained 
all  that  side  of  the  city,  up  to  the  main  central 
street,  the  Cozo.  General  Lefebvre  thought  all  was 
now  over  with  his  enemies,  and  summoned  Palafox 
to  surrender,  in  a  note  containing  only  these  words : 
"  Headquarters,  St.  Engracia.    Capitulation." 

The  answer  he  received  was  equally  brief: 
"Headquarters,  Zaragoza.    War  to  the  knife." 

There  they  were !  A  street  about  as  wide  as  Pall- 
Mall  was  all  that  lay  between  besiegers  and  be- 
sieged, to  whom  every  frail  brick  house  had  become 


AGOSTINA  OF  ZAKAGOZA  237 

a  fortress,  while  the  openings  of  the  narrow  cross 
streets  were  piled  up  with  sand-bags  to  form  bat- 
teries. Soon  the  space  was  heaped  with  dead 
bodies,  either  killed  on  the  spot  or  thrown  from 
the  windows,  and  this  was  enough  to  breed  a  pesti- 
lence among  the  survivors.  The  French  let  them 
lie,  knowing  that  such  a  disease  would  be  the  surest 
destruction  to  the  garrison,  and  they  fired  on  the 
Spaniards  whenever  they  ventured  out  to  bury 
them.  Upon  this  Palafox  devised  tying  ropes  to 
his  French  prisoners,  and  driving  them  out  to  bring 
in  the  corpses  for  burial.  The  enemy  would  not 
fire  on  their  own  countrymen  and  thus  this  danger 
was  lessened,  although  not  entirely  removed,  and 
sickness  as  well  as  famine  was  added  to  the  misery 
of  the  brave  Aragonese. 

The  manufacture  of  powder,  too,  could  no  longer 
be  carried  on,  but  happily  Don  Francisco,  the 
brother  of  Palafox,  was  able  to  make  his  way  into 
the  city  with  three  thousand  men  and  a  convoy  of 
arms  and  ammunition. 

Padre  Santiago  Sass,  the  curate  of  one  of  the 
parishes  of  Zaragoza  showed  himself  one  of  the 
bravest  of  all  the  brave,  fighting  at  every  hazardous 
point,  and  at  other  times  moving  about  among  the 
sick  and  dying  to  give  them  the  last  rites  of  the 
church.  No  one's  heart  failed  in  that  eleven  days 
of  one  continual  battle  from  house  to  house,  from 
room  to  room,  when  the  nights  were  times  of  more 
dreadful  conflict  than  the  days.  Often,  under  cover 
of  the  darkness,  a  party  would  rush  across  to  seize 


238    HEEOINES  OF  HISTOKY  AND  LEGEND 

a  battery ;  and  once  a  Spaniard  made  his  way  under 
cover  of  the  corpses,  which  filled  the  whole  space 
between  the  combatants,  and  fastened  a  rope  to 
one  of  the  French  guns.  It  had  almost  been 
dragged  across  the  street  and  was  only  lost  by  the 
breaking  of  the  rope. 

On  the  8th  of  August  the  Spaniards  agreed  that 
if  they  could  not  hold  their  ground  in  the  city,  they 
must  retire  acrosife  the  Ebro,  break  down  the  bridge, 
and  defend  the  suburbs  as  they  had  defended  the 
streets.  Only  an  eighth  part  of  their  city  now  re- 
mained to  them ;  and  on  the  night  of  the  thirteenth 
the  enemy's  fire  was  more  destructive  and  constant 
than  ever.  The  great  convent  of  St.  Engracia  was 
blown  up,  the  whole  of  the  French  part  of  the  city 
glared  with  flaming  houses,  the  climax  of  the  hor- 
rors of  the  siege  seemed  to  be  come!  But  the  re- 
ports of  the  batteries  gradually  ceased,  and  with 
the  early  morning  light  the  garrison  beheld  the  road 
to  Pamplona  filled  with  French  troops  in  full  re- 
treat. 

In  effect,  intelligence  had  been  received  of  re- 
verses to  the  invaders,  and  of  extended  movements 
among  the  Spaniards,  which  had  led  the  French  to 
decide  on  quitting  Zaragoza  ere  these  desperate 
defenders  should  be  reinforced  by  the  army  which 
was  collecting  to  relieve  them. 

Their  fortitude  had  won  the  day.  The  carnage 
had  ended,  and  it  remained  for  them  to  clear  their 
streets  from  the  remains  of  the  deadly  strife,  and 
to  give  thanks  for  their  deliverance.    Agostina,  in 


AGOSTINA  OF  ZARAGOZA  239 

testimony  of  lier  courage,  was  to  receive  for  life 
the  pay  of  an  artilleryman,  and  to  wear  a  little 
shield  of  honor  embroidered  on  her  sleeve. 

So  ended  the  wonderful  siege  of  Zaragoza.  It 
is  sad  to  know  that  when  the  French  forces  came 
in  full  numbers  into  Spain,  the  brave  town  shared 
the  fate  of  the  rest  of  the  country.  But  the  re- 
sistance had  not  been  in  vain ;  it  had  raised  a  feel- 
ing for  the  gallant  Spaniards  throughout  Europe, 
and  inspired  a  trust  in  their  constancy  which  con- 
tributed to  bring  them  that  aid  from  England  by 
which  their  country  was,  after  six  years,  finally 
freed  from  the  French  usurpation. 


THE  MAID  OF  SARAGOZA 

Lord  Byron 

And  must  they  fall?  the  young,  the  proud,  the 

brave. 
To   swell    one   bloated    Chief's    unwholesome 

reign? 
No  stei3  between  submission  and  a  grave? 
The  rise  of  rapine  and  the  fall  of  Spain? 
And  doth  the  Power  that  man  adores  ordain 
Their  doom,  nor  heed  the  suppliant's  appeal? 
Is  all  that  desperate  Valour  acts  in  vain? 
And  Counsel  sage,  and  patriotic  Zeal, 
The  Veteran's  skill,  Youth's  fire,  and  Manhood's 

heart  of  steel? 

Is  it  for  this  the  Spanish  maid,  aroused. 
Hangs  on  the  willow  her  unstrung  guitar. 
And,  all  unsex'd,  the  anlace  hath  espoused, 
Sung  the  loud  song,  and  dared  the  deed  of  war? 
And  she,  whom  once  the  semblance  of  a  scar 
Appall'd,  an  owlet's  larum  chill'd  with  dread, 
I^ow  views  the  column-scattering  bay'net  jar. 
The  falchion  flash,  and  o'er  the  yet  warm  dead 
Stalks  with  Minerva's  step  where  Mars  might  quake 
to  tread. 

240 


as    3 

<  <^ 

i.    ^ 

at 

S  1 


THE  MAID  OF  SARAGOZA  241 

Ye  who  shall  marvel  when  you  hear  her  tale, 
Oh !  had  you  known  her  in  her  softer  hour, 
Marked  her  black  eye  that  mocks  her  coal-black 

veil. 
Heard  her  light,  lively  tones  in  Lady's  bower. 
Seen  her  long  locks  that  foil  the  painter's 

power. 
Her  fairy  form,  with  more  than  female  grace, 
Scarce  would  you  dream  that  Saragoza's  tower 
Beheld  her  smile  in  Danger's  Gorgon  face, 
Thin  the  closed  ranks,  and  lead  in  Glory's  fearful 

chase. 

Her  lover  sinks — she  sheds  no  ill-timed  tear ; 
Her  chief  is  slain — sh?  fills  his  fatal  post ; 
Her  fellows  flee — she  checks  their  base  career ; 
The  foe  retires — she  heads  the  sallying  host. 
Who  can  appease  like  her  a  lover's  ghost? 
Who  can  avenge  so  well  a  leader's  fall? 
What  maid  retrieve  when  man's  flush'd  hope 

is  lost? 
Who  hang  so  fiercely  on  the  flying  Gaul, 
Foil'd  by  a  woman's  hand,  before  a  batter'd  wall? 


THE  PRIVATEER  OF  HALL'S  HARBOR 
Grace  Dean  McLeod 

On  the  southern  coast  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  about 
ten  miles  down  the  shore  from  the  lofty  promontory 
of  Cape  Split,  there  is  a  sudden  slope  of  the  mural 
cliffs  of  trap.  In  this  declivity  is  a  narrow  vault- 
like opening  extending,  with  but  slight  interrup- 
tion, from  the  shore  of  the  bay,  through  the  moun- 
tain range,  to  the  fertile  valley  at  the  south.  Mid- 
way up  this  vault  a  brook,  fed  by  perennial  springs, 
flows  down  a  rocky  channel  to  the  waters  of  the 
bay.  As  it  nears  the  seaward  end  of  the  gorge  its 
bed  becomes  more  nearly  level  and  the  water  widens 
into  a  creek  up  which  the  tide  flows,  making  at 
high  water  a  safe  shelter  for  small  craft. 

In  the  early  morning  of  May  30,  1813,  there  was 
anchored  at  the  entrance  of  this  creek  a  small 
vessel,  and  on  an  escarpment  of  the  cliff  that 
banked  the  brook  on  the  west  side  stood  seven  men. 
They  were  not  fishermen,  nor  was  the  vessel  a  fish- 
ing craft. 

The  lonely  boundless  beauty  of  the  blue  bay,  the 
purple  mystery  of  the  opposite  heights,  the  rugged 
peaks  of  Chignecto  and  D'Or  lifting  their  crests 
above  the  gleaming  wave,  and  flashing  ruddy  tints 
along  their  sun-bathed  slopes,  was  no  new  or  won- 

242 


THE  PRIYATEER  OF  HALL'S  HARBOR    243 

derful  sight  to  these  men  who  were  the  captain  and 
crew  of  the  triiu  cutter-like  craft.  Three  times  in 
the  previous  year  had  they  moored  the  cutter  out- 
side the  little  creek.  Three  times  had  they  slept 
on  the  escarpment  of  the  cliff,  and  each  time  had 
they  threaded  that  rocky  vault  through  the  wooded 
mountain  and  reached  the  fertile  valley  beyond. 

They  were  in  no  haste  this  spring  morning.  The 
longest  trail  to  the  valley  could  be  covered  in  four 
hours,  and  they  had  no  wish  to  reach  it  until  night- 
fall. 

Six  of  these  men  were  middle-aged,  strong  and 
burly  of  build.  The  other  was  a  youth  of  about 
eighteen,  slight,  and  tall,  and  dark  of  face.  With- 
out bidding,  this  lad  started  a  fire  among  some 
smoke-stained  stones  in  a  sheltered  slope  of  the 
cliff.  When  he  had  done  this,  he  spoke  for  a  mo- 
ment with  the  captain,  and  then  descended  the 
rocky  slope  to  the  creek  where  a  boat  was  hauled 
up  on  the  shore.  This  boat  he  launched,  and  rowed 
down  the  brook  and  out  to  the  cutter,  boarded  her, 
and  returned  with  a  pail  and  some  empty  bags. 
The  pail  he  filled  with  fresh  water  from  the  foam- 
ing mountain  stream,  then,  going  to  where  the  men 
were,  threw  the  bags  on  the  ground. 

"  They  light  easy,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

"And  they  carry  easier  than  they'll  carry  this 
time  to-morrow,"  said  the  youth  with  a  laugh. 

"  Get  the  water  heated,  and  be  off  on  your  hunt 
before  the  sun  gets  higher,"  interrupted  the  cap- 
tain. 


244    HEEOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

"  Aye,  I'll  be  off  in  time,"  said  tlie  lad,  lacing  to 
his  anldes  a  pair  of  stout  buskins  he  had  brought 
from  the  vessel. 

"  No  fear  but  he'll  be  willing  to  be  off,"  said  an- 
other of  the  men.  "  His  heart  will  outrun  them 
buskined  legs,  I'll  be  bound.  The  table-land  holds 
a  prize  he  is  anxious  to  capture." 

The  youth's  brown  face  flushed  red,  but  he  made 
no  reply. 

"  Aye,  he'll  find  the  land  all  right,"  said  the  cap- 
tain. "  Six  months  make  little  change  in  a  piece  of 
ground ;  but  girls  and  table-lands  are  not  alike  that 
way,  lad,  so  don't  set  your  heart  too  strong  on  see- 
ing her  as  you  left  her  last." 

The  lad  was  busy  about  the  food  and  took  little 
notice  of  the  jesting.  In  half  an  hour  the  breakfast 
was  over,  and  he  started  away. 

"  It's  the  straightest  road  we  want,  youngster," 
called  the  captain,  as  the  boy  rounded  the  bend  of 
the  vault;  "the  straightest  road  and  the  fullest 
barns  and  shops.  Don't  venture  farther  down  than 
the  table-land,  and  remember  to  promise  the  red- 
skins half  the  booty — a  half  promised  is  a  quarter 
given,  and  that  Marff  Jane  of  ours  can  sail  away 
from  a  hundred  promises  if  her  cabin  be  full  of 
booty." 

It  was  a  few  hours  past  mid-day  when  the  youth 
returned.  He  found  the  men  anxiously  waiting  his 
arrival. 

"  The  way  is  clear,"  he  said ;  "  we  are  favored 


THE  PRIVATEER  OF  HALL'S  HARBOR    245 

as  we  always  have  been.  The  houses  are  left  un- 
protected to-night,  most  of  the  men  are  at  the  river 
mending  the  dykes,  and  they  are  going  to  camp  on 
the  spot.  The  Indians  are  as  easy  to  buy  as  tobacco. 
There  are  only  three  camps  where  there  were  a 
dozen  last  year,  and  but  three  grown  men  and  some 
boys  about  them." 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  men ;  "  tell  us  about  the 
maiden.  Are  her  eyes  as  yellow  and  her  teeth  as 
white  as  last  year,  or  was  she  smiling  on  a  brave  of 
her  own  tribe?" 

"  She  was  not  there,"  replied  the  youth.  "  She 
was  off  to  the  valley,  they  said." 

"  Did  you  leave  your  trinket?  "  asked  one  of  the 
men. 

The  lad  looked  angrily  at  him.  "  What  trinket 
do  you  mean?  "  he  asked. 

"  Tush,  lad !  "  said  the  captain,  "  a  jest  is  but  a 
jest ;  and  we  have  been  young  ourselves  not  so  many 
years  ago.  We  saw  you  buy  the  trinket  last  week ; 
and  you  sleep  so  sound  you  did  not  know  it  slipped 
from  your  waistcoat.  I  dare  say  the  sight  of  it 
brought  the  Indians  round  so  easy;  last  trip  they 
were  hard  enough  to  coax.  But  never  mind  the  girl 
now,  we  have  our  hours  counted  and  need  to  be 
alert.  How  many  did  you  say  there  were  in  the, 
camps,  lad?  " 

"  Three,  and  the  boys ;  they  will  go  with  you  and 
lead  you  to  the  richest  plunder — ^they  say  there  are 
fifty  hams  in  the  Squire's  smoke-house." 

The  youth  was  to  be  left  behind  to  guard  the 


246    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

vessel  and  the  boat.  He  preferred  being  left, 
though  he  did  not  say  so.  It  was  not  more  than  a 
year  since  he  had  joined  the  crew  of  the  Mary  Jane. 
He  did  his  part  bravely  and  heartily  when  required, 
but  at  each  trip  to  the  creek  he  had  been  left  to 
guard  the  vessel.  The  rest  of  the  men  wondered  a 
little  that  he  should  be  kept  from  all  four  raids. 
The  captain  had  his  reasons  for  this  treatment; 
there  were  people  in  the  valley  the  lad  did  not  care 
to  meet,  even  in  the  night.  Captain  Hall  knew  this 
— and  knew,  too,  more  of  the  fertile  valley  than  the 
Indians  who,  under  pretext  of  guides,  had  been 
secured  as  allies ;  but  he  did  not  speak  of  it. 

"  Keep  more  than  half  you  Imow  to  yourself,"  he 
said,  when  he  engaged  the  youth,  "  and  don't  let 
what's  left  of  the  other  half  slip  out  of  your  reach. 
These  are  times  of  war,  and  words  are  sometimes 
more  dangerous  than  swords." 

There  was  a  weightier  reason  for  staying  this 
time  than  there  had  ever  been  before.  In  the  cabin 
of  the  cutter  was  a  strong  box.  Their  last  sea- 
prize  had  been  a  rich  one,  and  in  the  strong  box 
were  two  thousand  dollars. 

Just  before  they  started  up  the  vault  the  captain 
rowed  across  to  the  cutter  and  brought  back  with 
him  the  treasure. 

"  Here,  lad,"  he  said,  "  Mary  Jane  thinks  it's  too 
much  risk  for  her,  considering  the  sudden  squalls 
that  haunt  this  bay.  Put  it  in  some  kind  of  a  hole 
in  the  ledge  till  we  are  back,  and  once  we're  safe  in 
port  again  there'll  be  some  dividing  as  will  make 


THE  PRIVATEER  OF  HALL'S  HARBOR    247 

your  eyes  bulge — tliink  of  that  for  company  while 
we're  off ! " 

The  youth  had  not  been  gone  two  hours  from  the 
encampment  on  the  table-land,  when  the  Indian 
girl  returned.  This  table-land  was  a  shelf -like  pro- 
jection that  made  out  from  the  mountain  on  the 
valley  side,  closed  from  sight  toward  the  valley, 
but  open  toward  the  mountain.  For  years  there 
had  been  a  considerable  encampment  of  Indians  at 
the  place ;  the  little  brook  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain furnished  them  fish,  the  stretches  of  beech 
woods  game  and  nuts.  But  late  years  both  game 
and  fish  were  failing,  and  most  of  their  number  had 
moved  farther  up  the  valley.  The  others  were  go- 
ing soon,  but  for  one  reason  and  another  the  mov- 
ing had  been  delayed. 

The  Indian  girl  was  glad  of  the  delay.  On  each 
occasion  of  the  other  raids  of  the  robbers,  the  youth 
had  visited  the  table-land,  and  each  time  he  had 
smiled  on  and  talked  with  the  girl.  The  last  trip 
he  had  given  her  a  bright  coin  and  told  her  to  wait 
until  spring  and  he  would  bring  her  a  chain  to  hang 
it  on.  In  her  wild,  untaught  way  she  remembered 
and  kept  faith  in  the  promise. 

When  she  returned  this  day  from  her  valley 
tramp,  she  was  met  with  the  news  of  the  white 
man's  coming ;  and  less  welcome  news  than  that  she 
unwillingly  heard.  Her  people  had  turned  traitor 
to  the  robbers.  On  each  of  the  other  expeditions 
they  had  guided  and  assisted  them,  and  for  each 


248    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

service  had  received  a  reward.  But  the  white 
settlers  of  the  valley  offered  larger  rewards. 
Thrice  had  their  houses  and  stores  been  broken  into, 
and  not  a  night  but  they  lived  in  terror  of  another 
raid.  By  some  means  they  discovered  that  the 
Indians  at  the  encampment  had  been  allies  and 
guides,  and  not  daring  to  threaten,  they  coaxed  and 
bribed  the  redskins  to  acquaint  them  of  the  ap- 
proach of  the  robbers  should  they  again  visit  the 
valley.  Promises  of  corn  and  flour  in  abundance 
prevailed.  Meantime  a  company  had  been  formed 
and  armed  to  fight,  and  preparations  made  so  that 
with  an  hour's  notice  the  men  could  be  gathered 
and  ready  for  duty. 

The  girl  had  not  been  acquainted  with  the  turn 
of  affairs,  and  knew  nothing  of  it  until  her  return 
from  the  valley  this  spring  day.  They  gave  her  the 
trinket  the  youth  had  left — a  shell  necklet  of  East 
India  make.  When  she  had  clasped  it  about  her 
dusky  throat  and  hung  upon  it  the  glittering  coin, 
they  told  her  of  their  plans  and  of  the  promise  they 
had  made  the  settlers,  and  that  she  must  retrace 
her  steps  to  the  nearest  house  to  warn  them.  They 
must  be  warned  in  time,  for  they  had  planned  not 
to  attack  the  robbers  in  the  valley,  but  to  allow 
them  to  secure  their  plunder  unmolested  and  re- 
turn with  it  to  the  shore.  Meanwhile  the  armed 
men  were  to  march  up  the  mountain  and  follow  the 
trail  to  the  cove,  where  they  would  lie  in  ambush 
and  wait  their  return.  They  would  be  weary,  and 
careless  of  attack,  and  easily  captured,  and  the 


THE  PRIVATEER  OF  HALL'S  HARBOR    249 

settlers  could  tlien  search  the  vessel  and  take  from 
it  whatever  booty  might  be  of  most  value  to  them. 

All  this  the  Indians  made  known  to  the  girl  and 
ordered  her  on  her  errand. 

Quietly,  but  sullenly,  she  started  away  from  the 
camps,  her  heart  beating  a  protest  to  the  treachery. 
The  robbers  were  coarse  hard  men,  she  cared  noth- 
ing for  them;  but  the  red-cheeked  youth  would  be 
in  their  number  and  killed  with  the  others. 

From  two  places  on  her  journey  she  could  be  seen 
from  the  camps,  and  she  wx'll  knew  her  unwilling- 
ness to  go  had  been  noticed,  and  that  keen  eyes 
would  be  strained  for  a  sight  of  her  in  these  cleared 
spots.  More  than  that,  they  had  timed  her,  and  set 
her  return  to  an  hour  after  sundown.  Powerless 
to  evade  the  errand  the  dark-skinned  messenger 
pursued  with  unwilling  feet  the  well-worn  trail  to 
the  white  men's  habitations. 

At  the  first  cleared  spot  she  looked  back;  she  saw 
no  one  of  her  people,  but  knew  she  was  seen  by 
them.  On  she  went  again,  down  now  on  the  edge 
of  the  fertile  valley,  across  the  little  brook  in  the 
meadow,  and  out  again  to  the  second  clearing.  On 
from  that,  and  but  half  a  mile  to  the  house  of  the 
Squire. 

Once  there  her  errand  was  soon  told,  and  a  mes- 
senger started  away  for  the  dykes.  A  new  thought 
entered  the  heart  of  the  agile  girl.  If  she  reached 
the  camp  before  the  robbers  came,  she  might  in 
some  way  let  them  know  of  the  treachery  of  her 
people.    The  thought  was  like  wings  to  her  feet,  and 


250    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

she  took  the  trail  back  with  double  the  speed  of 
her  coming,  and  long  before  she  was  expected, 
reached  the  table-land.  The  robbers  had  not  yet  ar- 
rived. 

An  hour  or  more  after  sundown  they  came.  The 
Indians  welcomed  them  as  they  had  always  done; 
and  for  a  while  they  rested  and  talked  of  the  prob- 
abilities of  the  booty  and  the  share  that  would  fall 
to  their  allies.  No  suspicion  of  the  treachery  was 
in  the  taciturn  faces  of  the  Indians,  and  no  thought 
of  it  entered  the  minds  of  the  robbers.  Three  times 
had  their  raids  been  successful,  and  again  fortune 
and  night  seemed  in  their  favor.  The  men  were 
away  from  the  houses,  the  night  would  be  dark  un- 
til twelve,  and  after  that  the  moon  would  rise  and 
light  their  return  journey  to  the  shore. 

The  girl  supposed  the  lad  would  be  with  the  men 
and  that  she  could  speak  with  hiin ;  but  as  she  lis- 
tened to  their  talk  she  heard  them  tell  that  he  had 
been  left  behind  to  guard  the  vessel.  She  had  been 
with  the  settlers  much  of  her  time  and  understood 
English  readily,  so  could  follow  the  men  as  they 
told  of  the  way  they  took ;  now  down  in  the  vault, 
now  up  on  the  mountainside,  down  again  by  the 
brink  of  the  brook,  and  straight  from  that  to  the 
slope  of  the  cliff  where  the  youth  kept  watch.  She 
knew  that  by  early  dawn  there  would  meet  him 
men,  armed,  and  ready  to  torture  and  slay.  She 
slipped  away  from  the  opening  where  she  had  been 
listening,  and  back  into  her  camp,  and  with  one 
hand  clasping  the  necklet  lay  down  with  the  chil- 


THE  PRIVATEER  OF  HALL'S  HARBOR    251 

dren  who  were  already  asleep.     Her  quick  brain 
liad  formed  a  purpose. 


When  the  waning  moon  shone  above  the  beech 
grove  to  the  east,  the  girl  arose  and  crept  from  the 
camp.  The  robbers  and  their  treacherous  allies  had 
long  been  gone.  The  squaws  and  children  were 
sleeping.  There  were  no  lights  in  the  valley  below. 
The  robbers  must  be  through  their  plundering  and 
soon  would  be  starting  on  the  return  tramp. 

By  another  trail  the  armed  men  must  now  be 
creeping  up  and  over  the  mountainside.  There 
was  a  trail  on  the  east  and  one  on  the  west  side 
the  gulch ;  which  way  they  had  taken  the  girl  did 
not  know;  but  she  knew  they  must  be  an  hour 
ahead  of  her,  and  if  she  was  to  reach  the  cove  be- 
fore them  her  feet  must  make  no  tarrying.  Already 
she  was  weary  from  her  long  tramp  to  the  settle- 
ment, but  lithe  of  limb  and  persistent  of  purpose 
she  started  forth,  entered  the  beech  woods,  crossed 
the  head  of  the  gorge,  and  took  the  western  trail. 

Ahead  of  her,  ascending  the  brow  of  the  moun- 
tain, was  the  company  of  armed  men.  The  way 
was  new  to  them,  they  were  slow  in  making  it,  they 
lost  time.  It  was  new  to  the  girl ;  but  she  was  not 
slow  and  she  lost  no  time.  The  moon  was  un- 
clouded; native  instinct  guided  her  moccasined 
feet  over  the  rough  ground,  and  with  her  heart  full 
of  the  purpose  to  save  the  life  of  the  white  lad  who 
kept  watch  on  the  cliff  by  the  shore  of  the  Great 
Water,  she  pressed  forward. 


252    HEROmES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

On  went  the  armed  men.  Fast  behind  came  the 
fleet  feet  of  the  maiden.  Behind  her  the  rough 
robbers  laden  with  plunder,  and  behind  them  the 
treacherous  Indians,  intent  on  getting  a  double 
share  of  booty.  All  journeying  to  the  same  point, 
each  inspired  with  a  different  purpose. 

On  through  the  forest  in  the  quiet  night  went 
this  strange  procession — the  armed  men  ahead  and 
descending  the  vault,  gaining  rapidly  upon  them 
the  brave  girl,  and  following  fast  on  her  steps  the 
robbers. 

On  hastened  the  armed  men.  They  did  not  know 
their  blunder;  the  youth,  the  Indian  maiden  and 
the  robbers  were  on  the  west  side  the  gorge;  they 
had  taken  the  east.  And  as  it  neared  the  shore  the 
vault  became  deeper  and  the  mountain  stream  grew 
wide  and  washed  high  against  its  steep  rocky 
banks. 

When  morning  began  to  dawn,  a  low  belt  of  fog 
skirted  the  bay.  The  lofty  promontories  assumed 
fantastic  shapes.  The  islands  presented  a  delusive 
appearance.  The  white  mist  parted  them,  banked 
them,  tipped  them,  blent  their  jagged  peaks  with 
the  sky.  Slowly,  the  grayness  thickened  into  a  dull 
fog;  the  opposite  shore,  the  bold  headlands,  the 
islands  and  finally  the  blue  waters  of  the  vast  bay 
were  lost  to  view. 

At  the  first  gleam  of  daylight  the  young  man  had 
rowed  down  the  creek  and  boarded  the  vessel.  A 
light  breeze  was  springing  up  from  the  east ;  it  was 


THE  PRIVATEER  OF  HALL'S  HARBOR    253 

the  breeze  they  needed  to  take  them  down  the  bay. 
Knowing  this,  and  that  the  captain  wonld  sail  as 
soon  as  he  could  get  his  plunder  on  board,  the  lad 
loosened  the  sails,  and  as  far  as  could  be  done  made 
ready  to  weigh  anchor. 

The  ever-lurking  bay  fog  was  fast  gathering  over 
the  shore  and  by  the  time  he  had  reached  his  out- 
look on  the  cliff,  it  had  penetrated  the  woods  and 
wrapped  its  gray  drapery  about  the  tall  green 
pines,  and  lay  like  a  great  bank  over  the  creek  and 
against  the  steep  sides  of  the  rocky  gorge. 

Not  a  rod  could  his  sight  pierce  its  damp  density. 
Walled  in  on  every  side  he  waited  the  return  of  the 
robbers.  Soon  the  sound  of  voices  at  a  distance 
fell  upon  his  quick  ear  and  he  sent  a  shrill  whistle 
into  the  dull  mist.  It  was  not  answered.  The 
voices  sounded  nearer  and  seemed  to  come  from  the 
oast  side  of  the  gorge.  He  was  puzzled — the  rob- 
bers never  went  or  came  by  that  trail;  but  again 
he  gave  the  signal  whistle  and  listened  for  reply. 

Directly  there  came  through  the  mediumistic 
mist  the  sharp  click-click  of  the  cocldng  of  guns. 
At  the  same  instant,  out  of  the  gray  obscurity  above 
him,  rushed  the  Indian  maiden,  with  her  long  black 
hair  tangled  about  her  round  neck  and  brown  oval 
face.  Panting  for  breath,  and  nearly  exhausted, 
she  did  not  speak,  but  pointed  across  the  creek 
whence  the  sounds  had  come,  and  down  to  the  boat 
on  the  little  beach. 

Vaguely  the  lad  interpreted  her  wild  gestures, 
and  seizing  the  mute  girl  in  his  strong  arms  de- 


254    HEKOINES  OF  HISTOEY  AIN'D  LEGEND 

scencled  the  cliff,  and  placing  her  in  the  boat, 
shoved  off  from  the  shore.  The  report  of  a  musket 
came  from  the  direction  of  the  voices  and  the  bullet 
struck  the  water  near  them. 

Believing  now  that  the  girl  was  for  some  reason 
being  hunted,  and  fearing  to  locate  the  boat  by  any 
noise,  he  allowed  it  to  drift  with  the  outgoing  tide. 
The  fog  was  their  only  i^rotection ;  each  understood 
this,  and  neither  ventured  a  word  till  the  rushing 
waves  had  borne  them  out  of  range  of  the  guns. 
Then  the  girl  brokenly  told  the  lad  who  the  men 
were  on  the  east  bank  and  why  they  were  there. 

Quickly  he  comprehended  the  situation,  and  with 
the  impetuosity  of  boyhood  seized  the  oars  and 
rowed  rapidly  toward  a  rocky  point  at  the  entrance 
to  the  creek.  It  was  in  that  bank  he  had  laid  the 
strong  box  and  he  must  secure  it  at  any  peril.  The 
noise  of  the  rowing  located  the  boat,  and  shot  after 
shot  from  the  bank  of  fog  rang  out  upon  the  still- 
ness of  the  mist-laden  air,  and  bullets  skipped  on 
the  water  around  them.  But  these  were  sounds  and 
sights  not  unfamiliar  to  the  youth,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  boat  touched  the  shore. 

At  the  same  instant  the  robbers  burst  out  of  the 
fog-shrouded  forest  and  hastened  toward  the  boat. 
Hearing  the  firing,  they  had  run  the  last  two  miles 
of  the  trail. 

"  Valley  men — Indian  traitors,"  said  the  lad,  and 
a  volley  of  musketry  from  the  invisible  shooters 
echoed  his  words. 

"  Never  mind  the  box,"  cried  the  captain,  as  he 


THE  PRIVATEER  OF  HALL'S  HARBOR    255 

returned  the  fire.  "  We  will  come  back  for  it  if  we 
live,  and  if  we  don't  the  devil  will  guard  it  forever." 
Then  placing  his  gun  in  the  boat  and  ordering  the 
men  aboard,  he  took  the  terrified  girl  in  his  arms 
and  carried  her  to  a  safe  place  behind  a  great  rock, 
pulled  from  his  pocket  a  well-filled  leather  purse, 
gave  it  to  her  and  bade  her  stay  there  till  the  fog 
cleared  away. 

Hardly  had  he  reached  the  boat  and  the  boat 
gone  thrice  her  length  from  the  shore,  when  the  girl 
rushed  toward  the  water  with  a  wild  scream.  A 
look  in  her  direction  discovered  the  treacherous  In- 
dians, cautiously  descending  the  gorge. 

"  They  will  kill  me,"  she  cried  piteously.  Mad- 
dened at  sight  of  his  faithless  allies  the  captain  or- 
dered the  boat  back  to  the  point.  He  was  too  late ; 
again  the  roar  of  musketry  echoed  among  the  hills, 
and  as  they  touched  the  shore,  the  Indian  maiden's 
life-blood  soaked  into  the  salt  sand,  and  the  lad  who 
had  sprung  forward  to  rescue  her  sank  with  a  cry 
upon  the  boat's  bottom,  dead. 

Taking  quick  aim  the  captain  fired,  and  laid  low 
the  foremost  of  the  skulking  savages,  then  seizing 
the  tiller  ordered  the  boat  to  the  cutter. 

From  the  cliff,  into  the  immensity  of  the  fog  went 
volley  after  volley.  From  over  the  water  came  only 
the  mufded  sound  of  oars  in  the  row-locks,  the  rat- 
tling of  chains,  and  the  dull  flapping  sound  of  sails. 

The  breeze  freshened.  The  dun-dripping  vapor 
lifted— from  the  tree-tops — from  the  cliff — from 
the  blue  swishing  water  of  the  great  bay.    And 


256    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

bearing  toward  the  ruddy  headland  of  D'Or 
gleamed  the  white  sails  of  the  bold  privateer,  filled 
with  the  wind  that  blows  always  good  to  some  one. 

Many  who  tell  the  story  claim  that  the  vessel 
went  down  in  a  gale  that  very  night,  and  all  her 
crew  were  lost.  Others  say  she  was  wrecked,  but 
some  of  the  men  were  saved,  and  that  these  men 
came  back  to  search  for  the  strong  box.  The  first 
settlers  at  the  Harbor  found  holes  dug  in  the  banks 
of  the  brook.  The  holes  have  since  been  thrice  mul- 
tiplied— with  what  success  is  not  positively  known 
— but  it  is  a  general  belief  that  the  treasure  has 
never  yet  been  found.  They  who  have  searched  for 
it  tell  that  the  Mary  Jane  haunts  the  creek;  that 
when  they  begin  to  dig  a  wliite  sail  gleams  off  the 
rocky  point,  the  sound  of  oars  is  heard,  and  six 
bearded  men  and  a  smooth-faced  youth  come  up 
from  the  water  and  surround  the  place  where  they 
are  digging.  None  have  dared  to  pursue  the  search 
after  sight  of  that  phantom  crew. 

The  Indian  girl  was  buried  beneath  a  great  pine- 
tree  that  still  stands  near  the  table-land,  its  ever- 
green foliage  bright  as  in  the  days  so  long  ago. 

It  is  years  since.  But  the  creek  still  cuts  into 
the  mural  cliff,  the  gorge  still  rends  the  w^ooded 
mountain,  the  purple  mystery  still  hangs  over  the 
rugged  heights. 

In  "  34  "  settlers  built  under  the  shadow  of  the 


THE  PRIVATEER  OF  HALL'S  HARBOR    257 

lofty  cliff,  and  a  road  winds  now  down  either  head- 
land bank.  The  place  is  known  as  Hall's  Harbor, 
called  after  the  man  who  more  than  a  hundred 
years  ago  moored  the  Mary  Jane  in  the  little  creek, 
and  under  guise  of  sanctioned  warfare  made  a  high- 
way of  the  mountain  gorge  to  plunder  his  native 
land  of  Acadia. 


THE   HEROISM   OF   MADAME   LAV  ALETTE 

Grace  Greenwood 

The  Count  de  Lavalette  was  born  at  Paris  in 
1769.  He  was  the  son  of  a  shopkeeper,  but  he  re- 
ceived a  liberal  education  and  studied  law.  When 
the  great  Revolution  broke  out  he  joined  the  Na- 
tional Guard ;  yet  at  the  storming  of  the  Tuileries 
he  nobly  risked  his  life  in  defending  Louis  the  Six- 
teenth and  his  family  from  the  fury  of  the  mob. 
He  was  filled  with  horror  and  disgust  at  the  atroci- 
ties of  the  revolutionists,  left  France  and  joined 
the  army  abroad. 

After  the  battle  of  Areola,  Napoleon,  then  Gen- 
eral Bonaparte,  made  him  his  aide-de-camp,  and 
from  that  time  manifested  toward  him  the  utmost 
affection  and  confidence.  In  this  instance  he 
showed  great  good  sense  and  taste  in  selecting  an 
officer  and  a  friend ;  for  Lavalette  was  a  man  of  su- 
perior talents,  remarkable  sagacity,  a  generous 
spirit,  and  rare  elegance  of  manners. 

He  accompanied  Napoleon  on  his  expedition  to 
Egypt ;  but  a  few  days  before  his  departure  he  was 
married  to  Mademoiselle  Emilie  de  Beauharnais,  a 
niece  of  Josephine,  Madame  Bonaparte.  This  mar- 
riage was  planned,  almost  commanded  by  Napo- 

258 


THE  HEKOISM  OF  MADAME  LAV  ALETTE   259 

leou,  but  it  proved  a  very  happy  one.  The  bride 
was  young,  beautiful,  good,  and  very  noble;  while 
Lavalette  was  amiable,  affectionate  and  faithful; 
loving  and  admiring  his  wife  with  all  his  heart. 

Lavalette  encountered  many  dangers  in  Egypt, 
in  battle  and  from  the  plague,  but  he  finally  re- 
turned to  his  country  and  his  home  in  safety. 

When  Napoleon  became  Emperor,  he  made  Lava- 
lette a  count  of  the  empire,  and  his  wife  mistress  of 
the  robes  to  the  Empress ;  but  when  her  aunt  was 
divorced,  Emilie  left  the  court  and  retired  to  pri- 
vate life. 

On  the  abdication  and  first  exile  of  Napoleon, 
Lavalette  submitted  and  promised  allegiance  to 
Louis  the  Eighteenth.  He  would  have  remained 
faithful,  had  not  this  king  proved  himself  a  stupid 
tyrant  and  a  coward,  unfit  to  reign.  When  Napo- 
leon returned  from  Elba  and  Louis  fled  from 
France,  Lavalette  gladly  went  back  to  the  service  of 
his  beloved  Emperor. 

After  the  battle  of  Waterloo  and  the  restoration 
of  Louis  the  Eighteenth  Lavalette  was  advised  to 
fly  from  his  country ;  but  his  wife  was  ill  at  the  time 
and  he  could  not  believe  Louis  base  and  cruel 
enough  to  punish  him  for  his  attachment  to  his  old 
master.  However,  he  was  arrested  and  imprisoned 
in  the  Conciergerie,  the  gloomy,  terrible  prison  in 
which  Marie  Antoinette,  Madame  Roland  and  many 
other  noble  victims  of  the  Revolution  had  been  con- 
fined. Here,  in  a  wretched  apartment,  dark,  cold 
and  damp,  he  sighed  away  his  weaiy  days  from 


260    HEEOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

July  to  November,  when  lie  was  brought  to  trial 
and  condemned  to  die  by  the  guillotine,  on  the  21st 
of  December. 

As  soon  as  she  heard  of  this  sentence,  Madame 
Lavalette  went  to  the  King,  flung  herself  at  his 
feet,  and  implored  him  to  spare  the  life  of  her  hus- 
band. So  beautiful  was  her  face,  so  noble  and 
graceful  her  manner,  such  sweetness  was  in  her 
voice,  such  pathos  in  her  words,  that  only  a  very 
hard-hearted,  revengeful  man  could  have  resisted 
her.  The  King,  however,  refused  to  grant  her 
prayer,  though  he  cruelly  encouraged  her  at  first. 
She  went  a  second  time ;  but  was  repulsed  from  his 
presence,  and  actually  sat  for  more  than  an  hour 
alone,  on  the  stone  steps  of  the  palace,  in  utter  grief 
and  despair. 

But  as  she  sat  there,  weeping,  shunned  and  aban- 
doned by  all  the  world,  suddenly  a  strong,  comfort- 
ing angel  seemed  to  whisper  to  her  soul  a  brave 
plan  for  saving  her  beloved  husband,  and  she  rose 
up  with  a  noble  purpose  in  her  heart  and  a  prayer 
on  her  lips  for  heavenly  help  and  strength. 

She  was  in  the  habit  of  dining  with  Lavalette 
daily,  sometimes  accompanied  by  her  daughter,  a 
lovely  young  girl,  and  sometimes  by  a  faithful  old 
nurse.  On  the  last  day  but  one  preceding  that  fixed 
on  for  the  Count's  execution,  Emilie  said  to  him, 
"  There  no  longer  remains  for  us  any  hope  but  in 
one  plan;  you  must  leave  here  at  eight  o'clock,  in 
my  clothes,  and  go  in  my  sedan-chair  to  where 
Monsieur  Baudus  will  have  a  cabriolet  waiting  to 


THE  HEROISM  OF  MADAME  LAVALETTE    261 

conduct  you  to  a  place  of  safety,  where  you  will  re- 
main till  you  can  quit  the  country." 

Lavalette  was  astounded ;  he  thought  the  plan  of 
his  wife  a  mad  and  hopeless  one,  and  so  he  told  her. 
But  she  was  calm  and  firm,  and  replied :  "  No  objec- 
tions ;  your  death  will  be  mine ;  so  do  not  reject  my 
proposal.  My  conviction  of  its  success  is  deep,  for 
I  feel  that  God  sustains  me." 

It  was  in  vain  that  Lavalette  represented  how 
difficult  it  would  be  for  him  to  disguise  himself  so 
as  to  deceive  the  sharp  eyes  of  the  turnkeys  and  sol- 
diers, whom  she  was  obliged  to  pass  every  night  on 
leaving  the  prison ;  and  the  probability  that,  should 
he  escape,  they  would  ill-treat,  perhaps  kill  her,  in 
their  rage.  She  turned  very  pale,  but  she  was  firm, 
and  at  last  wrung  from  him  a  promise  to  attempt  to 
execute  her  plan  on  the  following  day,  his  last  day 
of  life,  if  it  should  fail. 

When  Madame  Lavalette  came  for  her  last  visit 
she  was  accompanied  by  her  daughter  Josephine 
and  the  old  nurse.  She  wore  over  her  dress  a 
merino  pelisse,  lined  with  fur,  and  brought  with 
her  a  black  silk  petticoat.  She  said  to  her  husband, 
"  These  will  disguise  you  perfectly.  Before  going 
into  the  outer  room,  be  sure  to  draw  on  your  gloves, 
and  put  my  handkerchief  to  your  face.  Walk  very 
slowly,  leaning  on  Josephine,  and  take  care  to 
stoop,  as  you  pass  through  these  low  doors,  for  if 
they  should  catch  the  feathers  of  your  bonnet  all 
would  be  lost.  The  jailers  will  be  in  the  anteroom, 
and  remember  the  turnkey  always  hands  me  out. 


262    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

The  cliair  ■will  be  near  the  staircase.  Monsieur 
Baudus  will  meet  you  soon  and  point  out  your  hid- 
ing-place. Mind  my  directions — keep  calm.  God 
guide  you  and  protect  you,  my  dearest  husband." 

She  also  gave  some  directions  to  her  daughter, 
which  the  child  promised  to  follow  carefully.  After 
dinner  the  prisoner  retired  behind  a  large  screen 
where  his  wife  dressed  him  in  the  petticoat  and 
pelisse  she  had  brought,  and  put  her  bonnet  on  his 
head,  all  the  while  repeating,  "  Mind  you  stoop  at 
the  doors — be  sure  you  walk  through  the  hall 
slowly,  like  a  person  worn  out  with  suffering.  What 
do  you  think  of  your  father,"  she  said  to  Josephine, 
"will  he  do?" 

"  Not  very  badly,"  said  the  child,  trying  to  smile 
bravely,  but  feeling  a  great  deal  of  doubt. 

As  they  heard  the  turnkey  approaching,  Laval- 
ette  said,  "  He  looks  in  every  evening,  as  soon  as  he 
has  seen  you  off.  Remain  behind  the  screen,  and 
make  a  noise  by  moving  something,  so  that  he  will 
think  all  is  right,  and  not  discover  my  escape  till 
I  am  clear  away." 

Then  they  took  a  solemn,  loving  leave  of  each 
other,  and  as  the  door  opened,  Emilie  sprang  be- 
hind the  screen.  Lavalette  went  out  with  his 
daughter  and  the  nurse.  He  followed  the  directions 
of  his  wife  and  passed  safely  jailers,  turnkeys  and 
soldiers  to  the  sedan-chair,  and  was  soon  carried  in 
it  beyond  the  black  shadow  of  the  prison,  and  found 
himself  breathing  the  delicious  air  of  freedom  once 
more.    Monsieur  Baudus  and  the  Count  de  Chas- 


THE  HEROISM  OF  MADAME  LAVALETTE    263 

senon  met  him  at  the  appointed  place,  with  a 
cabriolet  which  he  entered  with  Baudus  and  was 
driven  away  by  the  Count.  The  last  look  he  had 
of  Josephine  she  was  standing  on  the  quay,  with  her 
hands  joined,  her  sweet  face  uplifted  in  the  starry 
night,  praying  for  the  safety  of  her  dear  father. 

In  the  carriage  was  a  groom's  livery  which 
Lavalette  put  on  and  assumed  the  character  of  a 
servant  to  Baudus,  who  conducted  him  to  the  house 
of  one  of  the  king's  ministers, — about  the  last  jilace 
in  all  Paris  to  be  suspected  and  searched.  Here 
he  was  received  by  Madame  Brisson,  wife  of  an 
offilcer  of  government,  who,  at  the  risk  of  her  life, 
concealed  him,  and  kindly  cared  for  him ;  because, 
her  husband  having  once  been  a  hunted  fugitive, 
she  had  made  a  vow  to  help,  and,  if  possible,  save 
any  one  in  similar  circumstances. 

Here  Lavalette  remained  concealed  about  a  fort- 
night while  a  rigorous  search  was  made  for  him. 
He  was  obliged  to  keep  his  window^s  closely  shut 
all  day,  and  when  at  night  he  ventured  to  open 
them,  he  often  heard  proclamations  of  reward  for 
his  discovery,  or  threats  of  vengeance  on  those  who 
were  harboring  him,  cried  in  the  street  below ;  the 
voices  sounding  to  him  like  the  howling  of  wolves, 
thirsting  for  his  blood.  But  he  had  the  joy  of 
hearing,  also,  from  Madame  Brisson,  that  the 
heroic  devotion  of  his  wife  was  everywhere  praised 
— that  she  w?cS  almost  worshiped  by  the  people. 

Lavalette  finally  owed  his  escape  to  some  gener- 
ous Englishmen,  who   conveyed  him  out  of  the 


264    HEEOINES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGEND 

country  in  the  disguise  of  an  English  of9.cer  of  the 
Guards.  After  an  exile  of  six  years  he  was  allowed 
to  return  to  France  and  rejoin  his  beloved  wife  and 
daughter  once  more. 

When  it  was  discovered  that  Madame  Lavalette 
had  set  her  husband  free,  she  was  treated  very 
cruelly  by  the  jailers  and  the  government  author- 
ities. She  was  closely  confined  like  the  worst  of 
criminals,  forbidden  to  see  or  hear  from  a  friend 
and  denied  almost  every  comfort.  In  delicate 
health,  worn  with  grief  and  anxiety,  she  sunk  under 
her  lonely  suffering,  and,  when  she  was  liberated, 
after  six  weeks'  imprisomnent  (for  her  enemies 
dared  not  condemn  her),  her  noble  mind  was  shat- 
tered ;  she  had  become  as  a  child,  only  sadder  than 
any  child  ever  was.  She  remained  in  this  melan- 
choly state  throughout  her  life,  only  when  her 
husband  returned  from  exile  she  seemed  to  find  a 
sweet  content  in  Jiis  presence,  and  to  love  him  the 
better  for  all  she  had  suffered  for  him.  And  so 
she  continued,  "ever  good  and  gentle,"  but  not 
all  herself,  till  she  passed  from  under  the  cloud  of 
her  mortal  life  into  the  light  of  God's  peace. 


THE  CHIEFTAINESS  AND  THE  VOLCANO 

Charlotte  M.  Yonge 

Few  regions  in  the  world  are  moi-e  beautiful  tlian 
those  islands  far  away  in  the  Pacific  which  we  have 
been  used  to  call  the  Sandwich  Isles.  They  are  in 
great  part  formed  by  the  busy  little  coral  worms, 
but  in  the  midst  of  them  are  lofty  mountains, 
thrown  up  by  the  wonderful  ])ower  that  we  call 
volcanic.  In  sailing  up  to  the  islands  the  first  thing 
that  becomes  visible  are  two  lofty  peaks,  each  two 
miles  and  a  half  high.  One  is  white  with  perpetual 
snow,  the  other  is  dark — dark  with  lava  and 
cinders,  on  which  the  inward  heat  will  not  permit 
the  snow  to  cast  a  white  mantle.  The  first  of  these 
has  been  tranquil  for  many  years,  the  other  is  the 
largest  and  most  terrible  active  volcano  in  the 
world,  and  is  named  Kilauea. 

The  enormous  crater  is  a  lake  of  liquid  fire,  from 
six  to  nine  miles  in  circumference.  Over  it  plays 
a  continual  vapor,  which  hangs  by  day  like  a  silvery 
cloud,  but  at  dusk  is  red  and  glowing  like  the 
Aurora  Borealis,  and  in  the  night  is  as  a  forest 
in  flames.  Rising  into  this  lurid  atmosphere  are 
two  black  cones,  in  the  midst  of  a  sea  of  fused  lava, 
in  which  black  and  pink  rocks  are  tossed  wildly 
about  as  in  a  seething  caldron.     The  edge  of  this 

265 


266    HEKOIKES  OF  HISTOEY  AND  LEGEND 

huge  basin  of  burning  matter  is  a  ledge  of  hard 
lava,  above  which  rises  a  mighty  wall  of  scoria  or 
cinder;  in  one  place  forming  an  abrupt  precipice, 
four  thousand  feet  high,  but  in  others  capable  of 
being  descended,  by  perilous  paths,  by  those  who 
desire  to  have  a  closer  view  of  the  lake  of  flame 
within.  Upon  the  bushes  that  grow  on  the  moun- 
tain top  is  found  a  curious  fibrous  substance  formed 
by  the  action  of  the  air  upon  the  vapor  rising  from 
the  molten  minerals  beneath ;  it  is  like  cobwebs  of 
spun  glass.  Tremendous  is  the  scene  at  all  times, 
but  at  the  periods  of  eruption  the  terrific  majesty 
is  beyond  all  imagination,  when  rivers  of  boiling 
lava,  blood-red  with  heat,  rush  down  the  mountain- 
side, forming  cascades  of  living  fire,  or  spreading 
destruction  over  the  plains,  and  when  reaching  the 
sea,  struggling  and  thundering,  in  bubbling  flames 
and  dense  smoke  for  the  mastery  with  the  other 
element. 

Heathen  nations  living  among  such  wonderful 
appearances  of  nature  cannot  fail  to  connect  them 
with  divine  beings.  The  very  name  of  volcano  testi- 
fies to  the  old  classical  fancy  that  the  burning  hills 
of  the  Mediterranean  were  the  workshops  of  the 
armorer  god  Vulcan  and  his  Cyclops;  and  in  the 
Sandwich  Islands,  the  terrible  Kilauea  was  sup- 
posed to  be  the  home  of  the  goddess  Pele,  whose 
bath  was  in  the  mighty  crater,  and  whose  hair  was 
supposed  to  be  the  glassy  threads  that  covered  the 
hills.  Iierce  goddess  as  she  was,  she  permitted  no 
woman  m  touch  the  verge  of  her  mountain,  and  her 


THE  CHIEFTAINESS  AND  THE  VOLCANO   267 

wrath  miglit  involve  the  whole  island  in  fiery  de- 
struction. 

At  length,  however,  the  islanders  were  delivered 
from  their  bondage  of  terror  into  a  clearer  light. 
Missionaries  came  among  them,  and  intercourse 
with  Europeans  made  them  ashamed  of  their  own 
superstitious  fancies.  Very  gradually  the  faith  of 
the  people  detached  itself  from  the  savage  deities 
they  had  worshiped  and  they  began  to  revere  the 
One  True  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth.  But  still 
their  superstitions  hung  round  Kilauea.  There  the 
fiery  goddess  still  reveled  in  her  fearful  gambols, 
there  the  terrible  sights  and  sounds  and  the  desolat- 
ing streams  that  might  at  any  moment  burst  from 
her  reservoir  of  flame  were  as  tokens  of  anger  that 
the  nation  feared  to  provoke.  And  after  the  young 
King  Liholiho,  with  all  his  court,  had  made  up  their 
minds  to  abandon  their  idols,  give  up  their  super- 
stitious practices,  and  seek  instruction  from  Chris- 
tian teachers,  still  the  priests  of  Pele,  on  her  flam- 
ing mountain,  kept  their  stronghold  of  heathenism, 
and  threatened  her  wrath  upon  those  who  should 
forsake  the  ancient  worship. 

Then  it  was  that  a  brave  Christian  woman, 
strong  in  faith  and  courage,  resolved  to  defy  the 
goddess  in  her  fastness,  and  break  the  spell  that 
bound  the  trembling  people  to  her  worship.  Her 
name  was  Kapiolani,  wife  of  Naihe,  the  public 
orator  of  Hawaii.  There  was  no  common  trust  and 
resolution  needed  to  enable  her  to  carry  out  her 
undertaking.     Not  only  was  she  outraging  the  old 


268    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

notions  that  fearful  consequences  must  follow  the 
transgression  of  the  tahUy  or  setting  apart.  Not 
only  was  the  ascent  toilsome,  and  leading  into  cold 
regions,  which  were  dreadful  to  a  delicate  Hawai- 
ian, but  the  actual  danger  of  the  ascent  was  great. 
Wild  crags  and  slippery  sheets  of  lava,  or  slopes  of 
crumbling  cinders,  were  strangers  to  the  feet  of  the 
tender  coast-bred  woman.  And  the  heated  soil,  the 
groanings,  the  lurid  atmosphere,  the  vapor  that 
oozed  up  from  the  crevices  of  the  half-cooled  lava 
must  have  filled  any  mind  with  awe  and  terror; 
above  all,  one  that  had  been  bred  up  in  the  faith 
that  these  were  the  tokens  of  the  fury  of  a  vindic- 
tive and  powerful  deity,  whose  precincts  she  was 
transgressing.  Very  recently  a  large  body  of  men 
had  been  suffocated  on  the  mountainside  by  the 
mephitic  gases  of  the  volcano — struck  dead,  as  it 
must  have  seemed,  by  the  breath  of  the  goddess. 

But  Kapiolani,  strong  in  the  faith  that  He,  as 
whose  champion  she  came,  was  all-sufficient  to 
guard  her  from  the  perils  she  confronted,  climbed 
resolutely  on,  bearing  in  her  hand  the  sacred  berries 
which  it  was  sacrilege  for  one  of  her  sex  to  touch. 
The  enraged  priests  of  Pele  came  forth  from  their 
sanctuary  among  the  crags,  and  endeavored  to  bar 
her  way  with  threats  of  the  rage  of  their  mistress ; 
but  she  heeded  them  not. 

She  made  her  way  to  the  summit  and  gazed  into 
the  fiery  gulf  below ;  then  descended  the  side  of  the 
terrible  crater,  even  to  the  margin  of  the  boiling  sea 
of  fire,  and  hurling  into  it  the  sacred  berries,  ex- 


THE  CHIEFTAINESS  AND  THE  VOLCANO   269 

claimed :  "  If  I  perish  by  the  anger  of  Pele,  then 
dread  her  power ;  but,  behold,  I  defy  her  wrath.  I 
have  broken  her  tabus;  I  live  and  am  safe,  for 
Jehovah  the  Almighty  is  my  God.  His  was  the 
breath  that  kindled  these  flames;  His  is  the  hand 
which  restrains  their  fury.  O,  all  ye  people,  be- 
hold how  vain  are  the  gods  of  Hawaii,  and  turn 
and  serve  the  Lord !  " 

Safely  the  brave  woman  descended  the  mountain, 
having  won  her  cause,  the  cause  of  Faith. 

In  classic  times  the  philosopher  Einj^edocles  had 
leapt  into  the  burning  crater  of  Mount  Etna, 
thereby  to  obtain  an  imperishable  name.  How 
much  more  noble  is  the  name  that  Kapiolani  gained 
for  herself,  by  the  deed  that  showed  forth  at  whose 
command  alone  it  is  that  the  mountains  quake  and 
flow  down  and  the  hills  melt  like  wax ! 


sa:n'ta  filomena 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow 

Whene'er  a  noble  deed  is  wrought, 
Wliene'er  is  spoken  a  noble  thought, 

Our  hearts,  in  glad  surprise, 

To  higher  levels  rise. 

The  tidal  wave  of  deeper  souls 
Into  our  inmost  being  rolls, 
And  lifts  us  unawares 
Out  of  all  meaner  cares. 

Honor  to  those  whose  words  or  deeds 
Thus  help  us  in  our  daily  needs, 
And  by  their  overflow 
Raise  us  from  what  is  low ! 

Thus  thought  I,  as  by  night  I  read 
Of  the  great  army  of  the  dead, 
The  trenches  cold  and  damp, 
The  starved  and  frozen  camp, — 

The  wounded  from  the  battle-plain. 

In  dreary  hospitals  of  pain. 
The  cheerless  corridors, 
The  cold  and  stony  floors. 
270 


Saint  Filomkna. 


SANTA  FILOMENA  271 

Lo !  in  tliat  house  of  misery 

A  lady  with  a  lamp  I  see 

Pass  through  the  glimmering  gloom, 
And  flit  from  room  to  room. 

And  slow,  as  in  a  dream  of  bliss, 
The  speechless  sufferer  turns  to  kiss 

Her  shadow,  as  it  falls 

Upon  the  darkening  walls. 

As  if  a  door  in  heaven  should  be 
Opened  and  then  closed  suddenly, 
The  vision  came  and  went. 
The  light  shone  and  was  spent. 

On  England's  annals,  through  the  long 
Hereafter  of  her  speech  and  song. 

That  light  its  rays  shall  cast 

From  portals  of  the  past. 

A  Lady  with  a  Lamp  shall  stand 
In  the  great  history  of  the  land, 

A  noble  type  of  good, 

Heroic  womanhood. 

Nor  even  shall  be  wanting  here 
The  vi^Jm,  the  lily,  and  the  spear, 

The  symbols  that  of  yore 

Saint  Filomena  bore. 


THE  BELIEF  OF  LUCKNOW 

Robert  Traill  Spence  Lowell 

Oh^  that  last  day  in  Lucknow  fort ! 

We  knew  that  it  was  the  last ; 
That  the  enemy's  lines  crept  surely  on, 

And  the  end  was  coming  fast. 

To  yield  to  that  foe  meant  worse  than  death ; 

And  the  men  and  we  all  worked  on ; 
It  was  one  day  more  of  smoke  and  roar, 

And  then  it  would  all  be  done. 

There  was  one  of  us,  a  corporal's  wife, 

A  fair,  young,  gentle  thing. 
Wasted  with  fever  in  the  siege. 

And  her  mind  was  wandering. 

She  lay  on  the  ground,  in  her  Scottish  plaid, 
And  I  took  her  head  on  my  knee ; 
"When  my  father  comes  hame  frae  the  pleugh," 
she  said, 
"  Oh,  then  please  waken  me." 

She  slept  like  a  child  on  her  father's  floor, 
In  the  flecking  of  woodbine  shade, 

When  the  house-dog  sprawls  by  the  open  door, 
And  the  mother's  wheel  is  stayed. 
272 


THE  RELIEF  OF  LUCKNOW  273 

It  was  smoke  and  roar  and  powder-stench, 

And  hopeless  waiting  for  death ; 
And  the  soldier's  wife,  like  a  full-tired  child, 

Seemed  scarce  to  draw  her  breath. 


I  sank  to  sleep,  and  I  had  my  dream 

Of  an  English  village-lane, 
And  wall  and  garden ; — but  one  wild  scream 

Brought  me  back  to  the  roar  again. 

There  Jessie  Brown  stood  listening 

Till  a  sudden  gladness  broke 
All  over  her  face ;  and  she  caught  my  hand 

And  drew  me  near  as  she  spoke : — 

"  The  Hielanders !    Oh,  dinna  ye  hear 
The  slogan  far  awa'? 
The  McGregor's.     Oh !     I  ken  it  weel ; 
It's  the  grandest  o'  them  a' ! 

"  God  bless  the  bonny  Hielanders ! 

We're  saved !  we're  saved !  "  she  cried ; 
And  fell  on  her  knees ;  and  thanks  to  God 
Flowed  forth  like  a  full  flood-tide. 

Along  the  battery  line  her  cry 

Had  fallen  among  the  men. 
And  they  started  back ; — they  were  there  to  die ; 

But  was  life  so  near  them,  then? 


274    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

They  listened  for  life ;  the  rattling  fire 

Far  off,  and  that  far-off  roar, 
Were  all,  and  the  colonel  shook  his  head, 

And  they  turned  to  their  guns  once  more. 

But  Jessie  said,  "  The  slogan's  done ; 

But  winna  ye  hear  it  noo? 
'  The  Campbells  are  comin' '?    It's  no  a  dream; 
Our  succors  hae  broken  through !  " 

We  heard  the  roar  and  the  rattle  afar, 
But  the  pipes  we  could  not  hear ; 

So  the  men  plied  their  work  of  hopeless  war, 
And  laiew  that  the  end  was  near. 


It  was  not  long  ere  it  made  its  way, — 

A  thrilling,  ceaseless  sound : 
It  was  no  noise  from  the  strife  afar, 

Or  the  sappers  under  ground. 

It  was  the  pipes  of  the  Highlanders ! 

And  now  they  played  "Auld  Lang  Syne." 
It  came  to  our  men  like  the  voice  of  God, 

And  they  shouted  along  the  line. 

And  they  wept,  and  shook  one  another's  hands, 
And  the  women  sobbed  in  a  crowd ; 

And  every  one  knelt  down  where  he  stood. 
And  we  all  thanked  God  aloud. 


m 

c' ., 

'^^V^*  ^ 

■ 

^T  ^-  ^- 

PP^ 

■    ,  F  ^  ^ 

;   1 

'"^i^^HI^^^^^^^^^I 

^^L                  /.rr^^^^">'           0»ai     1 

^^^k.^^^^^^v'ii-^^^^^^^^BV^HlA  --^H 

fc^ 

ai    Ct, 


THE  RELIEF  OF  LUCKNOW  275 

That  happy  time,  when  we  welcomed  them, 

Our  men  put  Jessie  first ; 
And  the  general  gave  her  his  hand,  and  cheers 

Like  a  storm  from  the  soldiers  burst. 

And  the  pipers'  ribbons  and  tartan  streamed. 
Marching  round  and  round  our  line; 

And  our  joyful  cheers  were  broken  with  tears 
As  the  pipes  played  "Auld  Lang  Syne." 


BARBARA  FRIETCHIE 

John  Greenleaf  Whittier 

Up  from  the  meadows  rich  with  corn, 
Clear  in  the  cool  September  morn, 

The  clustered  spires  of  Frederick  stand 
Green-walled  by  the  hills  of  Maryland. 

Round  about  them  orchards  sweep, 
Apple  and  peach  tree  fruited  deep, 

Fair  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord 

To  the  eyes  of  the  famished  rebel  horde, 

On  that  pleasant  morn  of  the  early  fall 
When  Lee  marched  over  the  mountain-wall ; 

Over  the  mountains  winding  down, 
Horse  and  foot,  into  Frederick  town. 

Forty  flags  with  their  silver  stars, 
Forty  flags  with  their  crimson  bars. 

Flapped  in  the  morning  wind :  the  sun 
Of  noon  looked  down,  and  saw  not  one. 

Up  rose  old  Barbara  Frietchie  then, 
Bowed  with  her  fourscore  years  and  ten ; 
276 


BARBARA  FRIETCHIE  277 

Bravest  of  all  in  Frederick  town, 

She  took  up  the  flag  the  men  hauled  down ; 

In  her  attic  window  the  staff  she  set, 
To  show  that  one  heart  was  loyal  yet. 

Up  the  street  came  the  rebel  tread, 
Stonewall  Jackson  riding  ahead. 

Under  his  slouched  hat  left  and  right 
He  glanced ;  the  old  flag  met  his  sight. 

"  Halt !  " — the  dust-brown  ranks  stood  fast. 
"  Fire ! " — out  blazed  the  rifle-blast. 

It  shivered  the  window,  pane  and  sash; 
It  rent  the  banner  with  seam  and  gash. 

Quick,  as  it  fell,  from  the  broken  staff 
Dame  Barbara  snatched  the  silken  scarf. 

She  leaned  far  out  on  the  window-sill, 
And  shook  it  forth  with  a  royal  will. 

"  Shoot,  if  you  must,  this  old  gray  head, 
But  spare  your  country's  flag,"  she  said. 

A  shade  of  sadness,  a  blush  of  shame. 
Over  the  face  of  the  leader  came ; 

The  nobler  nature  within  him  stirred 
To  life  at  that  woman's  deed  and  word : 


\ 

2Y8    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

"  Who  touches  a  hair  of  yon  gray  head 
Dies  like  a  dog !    March  on !  "  he  said. 

All  day  long  through  Frederick  street 
Sounded  the  tread  of  marching  feet : 

All  day  long  that  free  flag  tost 
Over  the  heads  of  the  rebel  host. 

Ever  its  torn  folds  rose  and  fell 

On  the  loyal  winds  that  loved  it  well ; 

And  through  the  hill-gaps  sunset  light 
Shone  over  it  with  a  warm  good-night. 

Barbara  Frietchie's  work  is  o'er, 

And  the  Rebel  rides  on  his  raids  no  more. 

Honor  to  her !  and  let  a  tear 

Fall,  for  her  sake,  on  Stonewall's  bier. 

Over  Barbara  Frietchie's  grave, 
Flag  of  Freedom  and  Union,  wave ! 

Peace  and  order  and  beauty  draw 
Round  thy  symbol  of  light  and  law ; 

And  ever  the  stars  above  look  down 
On  thv  stars  below  in  Frederick  town ! 


GKEENCASTLE  JEKNTY 

A  Ballad  of  'Sixty-Three 
Helen  Gray  Cone 

Oh,,  Greencastle  streets  were  a  stream  of  steel 

Witli  tlie  slanted  muskets  the  soldiers  bore, 
And  the  scared  earth  muttered  and  shook  to  feel 

The  tramp  and  the  rumble  of  Longstreet's  corps ; 
The  bands  were  blaring  "  The  Bonny  Blue  Flag," 

And  the  banners  borne  were  a  motley  many ; 
And  watching  the  gray  column  wind  and  drag 

Was  a  slip  of  a  girl — we'll  call  her  Jenny. 

A  slip  of  a  girl — ^what  needs  her  name? — 

With  her  cheeks  aflame  and  her  lips  aquiver. 
As  she  leaned  and  looked  with  a  loyal  shame 

At  the  steady  flow  of  the  steely  river : 
Till  a  storm  grew  black  in  the  hazel  eyes 

Time  had  not  tamed,  nor  a  lover  sighed  for ; 
And  she  ran  and  she  girded  her,  apron-wise, 

With  the  flag  she  loved  and  her  brothers  died  for. 

Out  of  the  doorway  they  saw  her  start 

(Pickett's  Virginians  were  marching  through), 

The  hot  little  foolish  hero-heart 
Armored  with  stars  and  the  sacred  blue. 

Clutching  the  folds  of  red  and  white 

Stood  she  and  bearded  those  ranks  of  theirs, 

Shouting  shrilly  with  all  her  might, 

"  Come  and  take  it,  the  man  that  dares ! " 

279 


280    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Pickett's  Virginians  were  passing  through ; 

Supple  as  steel  and  brown  as  leather, 
Rusty  and  dusty  of  hat  and  shoe, 

Wonted  to  hunger  and  war  and  weather ; 
Peerless,  fearless,  an  army's  flower ! 

Sterner  soldiers  the  world  saw  never, 
Marching  lightly,  that  summer  hour. 

To  death  and  failure  and  fame  forever. 

Rose  from  the  rippling  ranks  a  cheer ; 

Pickett  saluted,  with  bold  eyes  beaming. 
Sweeping  his  hat  like  a  cavalier, 

With  his  lion  locks  in  the  warm  wind  streaming. 
Fierce  little  Jenny!  her  courage  fell. 

As  the  firm  lines  flickered  with  friendly  laughter, 
And  Greencastle  streets  gave  back  the  yell 

That  Gettysburg  slopes  gave  back  soon  after. 

So  they  cheered  for  the  flag  they  fought 

With  the  generous  glow  of  the  stubborn  fighter, 
Loving  the  brave  as  the  brave  man  ought, 

And  never  a  finger  was  raised  to  fright  her : 
So  they  marched,  though  they  knew  it  not. 

Through  the  fresh  green  June  to  the  shock  in- 
fernal, 
To  the  hell  of  the  shell  and  the  plunging  shot, 

And  the  charge  that  has  won  them  a  name 
eternal. 

And  she  felt  at  last,  as  she  hid  her  face, 

There  had  lain  at  the  root  of  her  childish  daring 

A  trust  in  the  men  of  her  own  brave  race. 
And  a  secret  faith  in  the  foe's  forbearing. 


GKEENCASTLE  JENNY  281 

And  she  sobbed,  till  the  roll  of  the  rumbling  gun 
And  the  swinging  tramp  of  the  marching  men 

Were  a  memory  only,  and  day  was  done. 
And  the  stars  in  the  fold  of  the  blue  again. 

[Thanh  God  that  the  day  of  the  sword  is  done, 
And  the  stars  in  the  fold  of  the  blue  again!) 


BRIER-ROSE 

Hjalmar  Hjorth  Boyesen 

I 

Said  Brier-Rose's  mother  to  the  naughty  Brier- 
Rose  : 
"What  will  become  of  you,  my  child,  the  Lord 
Almighty  knows. 

You  will  not  scrub  the  kettles,  and  you  will  not 
touch  the  broom ; 

You  never  sit  a  minute  still  at  spinning-wheel  or 
loom." 

Thus  grumbled  in  the  morning,  and  grumbled 

late  at  eve, 
The  good-wife  as  she  bustled  with  pot  and  tray 

and  sieve; 
But  Brier-Rose,  she  laughed  and  she  cocked  her 

dainty  head : 
"  Why,  I  shall  many,  Mother  dear,"  full  merrily 

she  said. 

"  You  marry,  saucy  Brier-Rose !    The  man,  he  is 
not  found 
To  marry  such  a  worthless  wench,  these  seven 
leagues  around." 

282 


BKIER-EOSE  283 

But  Brier-Eose,  she  laughed,  and  she  trilled  a 
merry  lay: 
"  Perhaps  he'll  come,  my  Mother  dear,  from  eight 
leagues  away." 

The  good-wife  with  a  "  humph  "  and  a  sigh  for- 
sook the  battle, 

And  flung  her  pots  and  pails  about  with  much 
vindictive  rattle: 
"  O  Lord,  what  sin  did  I  commit  in  youthful  days, 
and  wild. 

That  thou  hast  punished  me  in  age  with  such  a 
wayward  child?  " 

Up  stole  the  girl  on  tiptoe,  so  that  none  her  step 
could  hear. 

And  laughing  pressed  an  airy  kiss  behind  the 
good-wife's  ear. 

And  she,  as  e'er  relenting,  sighed :  "  Oh,  Heaven 
only  knows 

Whatever  will  become  of  you,  my  naughty  Brier- 
Rose  ! " 

The  sun  was  high  and  summer  sounds  were  teem- 
ing in  the  air ; 

The  clank  of  scythes,  the  cricket's  whir,  and 
swelling  wood-notes  rare. 

From  field  and  copse  and  meadow;  and  through 
the  open  door 

Sweet,  fragrant  whiffs  of  new-mown  hay  the  idle 
breezes  bore. 


284    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Then  Brier-Rose  grew  pensive,  like  a  bird  of 
thoughtful  mien, 

Whose  little  life  has  problems  among  the 
branches  green. 

She  heard  the  river  brawling  where  the  tide  was 
swift  and  strong, 

She  heard  the  summer  singing  its  strange  allur- 
ing song. 

And  out  she  skipped  the  meadows  o'er  and  gazed 
into  the  sky ; 

Her  heart  o'erbrimmed  with  gladness,  she  scarce 
herself  knew  why. 

And  to  a  merry  tune  she  hummed,  "  Oh,  Heaven 
only  knows 

Whatever  will  become  of  the  naughty  Brier- 
Rose  ! " 

Whene'er  a  thrifty  matron  this  idle  maid  espied, 

She  shook  her  head  in  warning,  and  scarce  her 
wrath  could  hide ; 

For  girls  were  made  for  housewives,  for  spin- 
ning-wheel and  loom, 

And  not  to  drink  the  sunshine  and  wild-flower's 
sweet  perfimie. 

And  oft  the  maidens  cried,  when  the  Brier-Rose 
went  by : 
"  You  cannot  knit  a  stocking,  and  you  cannot  make 
a  pie." 


BRIEK-ROSE  285 

But  Brier-Rose,  as  was  her  wont,  she  cocked  her 
curly  head: 
"  But  I  can  sing  a  pretty  song,"  full  merrily  she 
said. 


And  oft  the  young  lads  shouted,  when  they  saw 
the  maid  at  play : 
"  Ho,  good-for-nothing  Brier-Rose,  how  do  you  do 
to-day?" 
Then  she  shook  her  tiny  fist;  to  her  cheeks  the 
color  flew : 
<^  However  much  you  coax  me,  I'll  7iever  dance 
with  you ! " 


II 

Thus  flew  the  years  light-winged  over  Brier- 
Rose's  head. 

Till  she  was  twenty  summers  old  and  yet  re- 
mained unwed. 

And  all  the  parish  wondered:  "The  Lord  Al- 
mighty knows 

Whatever  will  become  of  that  naughty  Brier- 
Rose!" 


And    while    they    wondered    came    the    Spring 

a-dancing  o'er  the  hills ; 
Her  breath  was  warmer  than  of  yore,  and  all  the 

mountain  rills, 


286    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

With,  their  tinkling  and  their  rippling  and  their 

rushing,  filled  the  air, 
And  the  misty  sounds  of  water  forth-welling 

everywhere. 

And  in  the  valley's  depth,  like  a  lusty  beast  of 
prey, 

The  river  leaped  and  roared  aloud  and  tossed  its 
mane  of  spray; 

Then  hushed  again  its  voice  to  a  softly  plashing 
croon, 

As  dark  it  rolled  beneath  the  sun  and  white  be- 
neath the  moon. 

It  was  a  merry  sight  to  see  the  lumber  as  it 

whirled 
Adovni  the  tawny  eddies  that  hissed  and  seethed 

and  swirled, 
Now  shooting  through  the  rapids  and,  with  a 

reeling  swing. 
Into  the  foam-crests  diving  like  an  animated 

thing. 

But  in  the  narrows  of  the  rocks,  where  o'er  a 

steep  incline 
The  waters  plunged  and  wreathed  in  foam  the 

boughs  of  birch  and  pine, 
The  lads  kept  watch  with  shout  and  song,  and 

sent  each  straggling  beam 
A-spinning  down  the  rapids,  lest  it  should  lock 

the  stream. 


BRIEE-ROSE  287 

III 

And  yet — methinks  I  hear  it  now — wild  voices 
in  tlie  night, 

A  rush  of  feet,  a  dog's  harsh  bark,  a  torch's  flar- 
ing light, 

And  wandering  gusts  of  dampness,  and  'round  us 
far  and  nigh, 

A  throbbing  boom  of  water  like  a  pulse-beat  in 
the  sky. 

The  dawn  just  pierced  the  pallid  east  with  spears 

of  gold  and  red, 
As  we,  with  boat-hooks  in  our  hands,  toward  the 

narrows  sped. 
And  terror  smote  us:  for  we  heard  the  mighty 

tree-tops  sway. 
And  thunder,  as  of  chariots,  and  hissing  showers 

of  spray. 

"  Now,  lads,"  the  sheriff  shouted,  "  you  are  strong, 

like  Norway's  rock : 
A  hundred  crowns  I  give  to  him  who  breaks  the 

lumber-lock ! 
For  if  another  hour  go  by,  the  angry  waters'  spoil 
Our  homes  will  be,  and  fields,  and  our  weary 

years  of  toil." 

We  looked  each  at  the  other;  each  hoped  his 

neighbor  would 
Brave  death  and  danger  for  his  home,  as  valiant 

Norsemen  should. 


288    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AKD  LEGEND 

But  at  our  feet  the  brawling  tide  expanded  like  a 

lake, 
And  whirling  beams  came  shooting  on,  and  made 

the  firm  rock  quake. 


"  Two  hundred  crowns ! "  the  sheriff  cried,  and 

breathless  stood  the  crowd. 
"  Two  hundred  crowns,  my  bonny  lads ! "  in  anx- 
ious tones  and  loud. 
But  not  a  man  came  forward,  and  no  one  spoke 

or  stirred. 
And  nothing  save  the  thunder  of  the  cataract  was 
heard. 


But  as  with  trembling  hands  and  with  fainting 

hearts  we  stood. 
We  spied  a  little  curly  head  emerging  from  the 

wood. 
We  heard  a  little  snatch  of  a  merry  little  song. 
And  we  saw  the  dainty  Brier-Rose  come  dancing 

through  the  throng. 

An  angry  murmur  rose  from  the  people  'round 
about, 
"  Fling  her  into  the  river !  "  we  heard  the  matrons 

shout ; 
"  Chase  her  away,  the  silly  thing ;  for  God  Himself 
scarce  knows 
Why  ever  He  created  that  worthless  Brier-Rose," 


BEIER-KOSE  289 

Sweet  Brier-Rose,  she  heard  their  cries ;  a  little 
pensive  smile 

Across  her  visage  flitted  that  might  a  stone  be- 
guile; 

And  then  she  gave  her  pretty  head  a  roguish 
little  cock: 
"  Hand  me  a  boat-hook,  lads,"  she  said ;  "  I  think 
I'll  break  the  lock." 

Derisive  shouts  of  laughter  broke  from  throats  of 

young  and  old : 
"  Ho !   good-for-nothing  Brier-Rose,   youi'   tongue 

was  ever  bold." 
And,  mockingly,  a  boat-hook  into  her  hands  was 

flung, 
When,  lo !  into  the  river's  midst  with  daring  leaps 

she  sprung ! 

We  saw  her  dimly  through  a  mist  of  dense  and 
blinding  spray; 

From  beam  to  beam  she  skipped,  like  a  water- 
sprite  at  play. 

And  now  and  then  faint  gleams  we  caught  of 
color  through  the  mist : 

A  crimson  waist,  a  golden  head,  a  little  dainty 
wrist. 

In  terror  pressed  the  people  to  the  margin  of  the 

hill, 
A  hundred  breaths  were  bated,  a  hundred  hearts 

stood  still. 


290    HEKOINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

For,  hark!  from  out  the  rapids  came  a  strange 

and  creaking  sound, 
And  then  a  crash  of  thunder  which  shook  the 

very  ground. 

The  waters  hurled  the  lumber  mass  down  o'er  the 

rocky  steep. 
We  heard  a  mufflLed  rumbling  and  a  rolling  in  the 

deep; 
We  saw  a  tiny  form  which  the  torrent  swiftly 

bore 
And  flung  into  the  wild  abyss,  where  it  was  seen 

no  more. 

Ah,  little  naughty  Brier-Rose,  thou  couldst  nor 

weave  nor  spin ; 
Yet  thou  couldst  do  a  nobler  deed  than  all  thy 

mocking  kin; 
For  thou  hadst  courage  e'en  to  die,  and  by  thy 

death  to  save 
A  thousand  farms  and  lives  from  the  fury  of  the 

wave. 

And  yet  the  adage  lives,  in  the  valley  of  thy  birth, 

When  wayward  children  spend  their  days  in 
heedless  play  and  mirth, 

Their  mothers  say,  half  smiling,  half  sighing, 
"  Heaven  knows 

Whatever  will  become  of  the  naughty  Brier- 
Rose!" 


BELGIUM,  THE  BAE-LASS 

A.  Mary  F.  Robinson 

The  night  was  still.     The  King  sat  with  the 

Queen. 
She  sang.    Her  maidens  spun.    A  peaceful  scene. 

Sudden,  wild  echoes  shake  the  castle  wall. 
Their  foes  come  crashing  through  the  outer  hall. 

They    rush    like    thunder    down    the    gallery 
floor.     .    .    . 
.     .     Someone  has  stolen  the  bolt  that  bars 
the  door ! 

No  pin  to  hold  the  loops,  no  stick,  no  stave, 
Nothing !    An  open  door,  an  open  grave ! 

Then  Catherine  Bar-lass  thrust  her  naked  arm 
(A  girl's  arm,  white  as  milk,  alive  and  warm) 

Right  through  the  loops  from  which  the  bolt  was 
gone: 
"'Twill   hold    (said   she)    until   they   break  the 
bone — 

"  My  King,  you  have  one  instant  to  prepare !  " 
She  said  no  more,  because  the  thrust  was  there. 
291 


292    HEROINES  OF  HISTORY  AND  LEGEND 

Oft  have  I  heard  that  tale  of  Scotland's  King, 
The  Poet,  and  Kate  the  Bar-lass.    ( Men  will  sing 

For  aye  the  deed  one  moment  brings  to  birth — 
Such  moments  are  the  ransom  of  the  earth. ) 

Brave  Belgium,  Bar-lass  of  our  western  world, 
Who,    when   the   treacherous    Prussian    tyrant 
hurled 

His  hordes  against  our  peace,  thrust  a  slight 

hand, 
So  firm,  to  bolt  our  portals  and  withstand. 

Whatever  prove  the  glory  of  our  affray, 

Thine  arm,  thy  heart,  thine  act  have  won  the  day ! 


NUESE   EDITH   CAVELL 

Two  o'clock,  the  morning  £>/.  October  12th,  1915. 

Alice  Meynell 

To  her  accustomed  eyes 
The  midnight-morning  brought  not  such  a  dread 
As  thrills  the  chance-awakened  head  that  lies 
In  trivial  sleep  on  the  habitual  bed. 

'Twas  yet  some  hours  ere  light ; 
And  many,  many,  many  a  break  of  day 
Had  she  outwatched  the  dying ;  but  this  night 
Shorter  her  vigil  was,  briefer  the  way. 

By  dial  of  the  clock 
'Twas  day  in  the  dark  above  her  lonely  head. 
"  This  day  thou  shalt  be  with  Me."    Ere  the  cock 
Announced  that  day  she  met  the  Immortal  Dead.  ^ 


293 


NOTES 

Savttri's  Choice.    Page  13. 

"How  Savitri  loved  and  suffered,  how  she  strove  and 
conquered  Fate"  is  one  of  the  legendary  tales  included 
in  the  Mahabharata,  one  of  the  great  epic  poems  of 
ancient  India.  It  may  well  be  called  the  Iliad  of  the 
Hindus,  because  the  principal  subject  is  a  great  war 
believed  to  have  been  fought  in  the  13th  or  14th  century 
B.  c. ;  but  it  is  immensely  long,  about  seven  times  as  long 
as  the  two  poems  of  Homer  taken  together,  and  contains 
a  great  mass  of  other  myths,  legends  and  traditions. 

The  story  of  Savitri  "is  known  by  Hindu  women,  high 
and  low,  rich  and  poor,  in  all  parts  of  India;  and  on  a 
certain  night  in  the  year  millions  of  Hindu  women  cele- 
brate a  rite  in  honor  of  the  woman  whose  love  was  not 
conquered  by  death."  (Romesh  Dutt.)  And  whoso- 
ever, we  are  told, 

"  shall  read  with  heart  intent 
Savitri's  holy  story,  will  wax  glad, 
And  know  that  all  fares  well,  and  suffer  nought." 

Read  also  the  beautiful  Greek  story  of  Alcestis  who 
died  "to  save  her  lord."  It  may  be  found  in  "Stories 
from  the  Greek  Tragedians,"  by  A.  J.  Church. 

Page  23.  "According  to  Hindu  theology  the  soul  of  a 
dead  man  is  about  the  size  of  the  human  thumb.  At 
death  a  hole  should  be  dug  northeastward  of  the  fire, 
where  the  soul  can  wait  until  the  gross  body  is  burned, 

295 


296  NOTES 

and  then  emerging  be  carried  with  the  smoke  to  heaven." 
(E.  A.  Eeed.) 

Jephthah's  Daughter.    Page  30. 

Jephthah,  the  Gileadite,  a  mighty  man  of  valor,  being 
about  to  lead  the  Israelites  in  war  against  the  Ammon- 
ites "vowed  a  vow  unto  the  Lord,  and  said,  If  thou 
shalt  without  fail  deliver  the  children  of  Ammon  into 
mine  hands, 

Then  it  shall  be,  that  wjiatsoever  cometh  forth  of  the 
doors  of  my  house  to  meet  me,  when  I  return  in  peace 
from  the  children  of  Ammon,  shall  surely  be  the  Lord's, 
and  I  will  offer  it  up  for  a  burnt  offering." 

And,  behold,  on  his  return  from  the  defeat  of  his 
enemies  *'  his  daughter  came  out  to  meet  him  with 
timbrels  and  with  dances;  and  she  was  his  only  child." 
And  her  father  "did  with  her  according  to  his  vow 
which  he  had  vowed."     (Judges  11.) 

Among  the  women  of  Israel  it  became,  henceforth,  a 
custom  to  commemorate  the  sad  fate  of  Jephthah's 
daughter  by  four  days'  mourning  every  year.  Her 
willing  self-surrender,  her  courageous  resignation  are 
expressed  in  Lord  Byron's  short  poem  and  also  in  the 
extract  from  Tennyson's  "Dream  of  Fair  Women." 

Read  also  "The  Story  of  Iphigenia  in  Aulis"  in 
"Stories  from  the  Greek  Tragedians." 

Two  Immortal  Names.    Page  33. 

Primarily  a  hero  story,  but  the  traitor  Ephialtes  is 
here  contrasted  not  only  with  the  great  patriot,  Leonidas, 
but  also  with  the  brave  and  fleet-footed  maiden  who 
warned  the  king  of  the  impending  treachery.  It  was 
in  480  B.  c.  that  Leonidas  and  his  Spartans  thus  made 


KOTES  297 

their  supreme  sacrifice  at  the  pass  of  Thermopylae  that 
their  country  might  be  saved,  and  still,  though  centuries 
have  come  and  gone, 

"  Their  tomb  an  altar  is,  their  name 
A  mighty  heritage  of  fame." 

BoADiCEA.    Page  48. 

Period  of  the  Roman  conquest.  Boadieea  was  the  wife 
of  Prasutagus,  king  of  the  Iceni.  After  the  death  of 
their  king,  the  Britons  were  brutally  ill-treated  by  their 
conquerors,  and  Boadieea,  indignant  at  the  wrongs  in- 
flicted upon  her  people  and  herself,  led  a  revolt  against 
the  Roman  legions.  The  first  successes  were  but  tem- 
porary and  the  native  army  was  completely  overwhelmed. 
Seeing  that  all  hope  was  gone  and  unwilling  to  live  a 
slave  or  grace  a  Roman  triumph,  Boadieea  in  despair 
killed  herself. 

Golden  Apples  and  Roses  Red.    Page  50, 

Another  story  of  Dorothea,  telling  how  she  ministered 
to  the  saint  Waldo,  may  be  read  in  '*A  Child's  Book 
of  Saints"  by  William  Canton. 

MuLAN,  THE  Maiden  Chief.     Page  61. 

Disguised  in  her  father's  armor,  Mulan,  the  Chinese 
heroine,  leads  his  troops  to  the  conflict.  The  poem  was 
written  between  502  and  556  a.  d.  by  an  unknown  author. 

Godiva.    Page  63. 

This  heroine,  a  ' '  most  princely  dame, ' '  was  a  real  per- 
son who  lived  in  the  11th  century  and  by  her  good  deeds 
and  holy  life  ''built  herself  an  everlasting  name."  The 
poem  is  based  on  the  legendary  story  told  of  old  by 


298  NOTES 

mediaeval  chroniclers.  The  ''Godiva  procession'*  which 
commemorates  her  famous  ride  has  been  a  feature  of 
Coventry  fair  since  the  time  of  Charles  the  Second. 
Landor  saw  one  of  these  festivals  when  a  boy  and  after- 
ward wrote  an  *' Imaginary  Conversation"  between 
Leofric  and  Godiva.    The  name  means  "Gift  of  God." 

The  Women  of  Weinsberg.    Page  74. 

In  1138,  Konrad  III,  of  the  house  of  Hohenstaufen, 
became  king  of  Germany.  The  rival  candidate,  Henry 
the  Proud,  duke  of  Saxony  and  Bavaria,  refused  to 
acknowledge  Konrad  as  his  sovereign  and  took  up  arms 
against  him.  During  the  war  which  followed,  Weins- 
berg was  besieged  by  the  king's  troops  for  many  weeks, 
and  the  army  of  Count  Welf,  the  brother  of  Henry,  was 
defeated  in  a  great  battle  near  the  town.  It  was  in  this 
battle  that  the  war-cries  ''Welf"  and  ' ' Waiblingen, "  or, 
in  the  Italian  spelling  generally  followed,  "Guelph"  and 
*'Ghibelline"  were  first  used.  Welf  was  the  family 
name  of  Henry  the  Proud  and  Waiblingen,  a  castle  of 
the  Hohenstaufens.  For  a  long  period  in  Germany  and 
Italy  these  names  were  used  to  designate  the  opposing 
parties;  the  Welfs  being  those  who  took  the  part  of  the 
popes  and  the  Waiblingens  those  who  sided  with  the 
emperors. 

How  the  siege  of  Weinsberg  ended  is  told  in  the  poem, 
and  thenceforth,  it  is  said,  the  castle  mount  was  no  more 
called  Vine  Hill  but  the  hill  of  Weibertreue.  There  is 
a  humorous  poem,  ' '  The  Wives  of  Weinsberg, ' '  by  Gott- 
fried Biirger,  relating  the  same  story,  and  a  prose  ver- 
sion may  be  found  in  Charlotte  Yonge's  *'Book  of 
Golden  Deeds";  together  with  an  account  of  the  con- 
stancy of  the  burgher  dames  of  Lowenburg,  a  story  of 
the  Thirty  Years'  war. 


NOTES  299 

Saint  Elizabeth.    Page  81. 

It  was  on  a  summer  evening  in  1207  that  Klingsor, 
"master  of  all  song-craft,"  gazing  at  the  mysterious 
stars,  saw  a  vision  of  things  to  come;  and  this  was  the 
prophecy  which  he  made  to  the  princes,  courtiers  and 
minstrel  knights  gathered  about  him:  "  'Be  it  knoAvn  to 
you  that  a  daughter  has  been  born  to-night  to  the  king 
of  Hungary.  Her  name  shall  be  Elizabeth.  Holy  shall 
she  be.  She  shall  be  given  in  marriage  to  the  son  of 
this  prince' — raising  his  eyes  to  the  dusky  heights  of 
the  Wartburg — 'and  all  the  earth  shall  rejoice  and 
be  exalted  in  the  renown  of  her  sanctity.'  " 

"The  Story  of  Saint  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,"  by  Wil- 
liam Canton,  follows  the  medieval  records  of  her  lifej 
and  tells  how  the  prophecy  came  true — how  the  little 
princess  was  taken  from  her  royal  home  when  only  four 
years  old;  how  she  grew  to  girlhood  in  the  gray  hill 
castle  of  the  Wartburg;  how  her  name  came  to  be  en- 
rolled in  the  calendar  of  saints. 

Black  Agnes  of  Dunbar.    Page  85. 

After  the  death  of  Robert  the  Bruce,  civil  war  again 
broke  out  in  Scotland  and  among  those  who  fought  for 
their  country  and  king  at  this  time  was  the  Countess  of 
March.  She  is  especially  celebrated  in  history  for  her 
defense  of  Dunbar  Castle  which  was  besieged  by  the 
English  in  1338.  This  account  is  taken  from  Scott's 
"Tales  of  a  Grandfather." 

The  Soul  of  the  Great  Bell.    Page  89. 

This  story  of  Ko-Ngai  is  from  a  collection  entitled 
"Pe-Hiao-Tou-Chouej"  or  "A  Hundred  Examples  of 
Filial  Piety." 


300  NOTES 

The  Ta-chung  sz'  is  literally  ''Temple  of  the  Bell." 
It  is  in  Peking  and  the  bell  is  probably  the  largest  sus- 
pended bell  in  the  world.  It  was  cast  about  1406  and 
weighs  about  120,000  pounds.  Fo  is  a  Chinese  name  for 
Buddha.  Kwang-tehau-fu  is  Canton,  "The  Broad 
City."  The  position  of  a  Fuh-yin  is  somewhat  similar 
to  that  of  a  mayor.  (Condensed  from  notes  by  Lafeadio 
Hearn.) 

A  Legend  of  Bregenz.    Page  96. 

The  poem  is  probably  founded  on  the  traditional  story 
of  a  girl  who  saved  the  country  folk  of  the  Bregenz 
district  from  an  attack  of  the  Appenzellers  some  time 
during  the  early  part  of  the  15th  century. 

Joan  of  Arc.    Page  103. 

"I  come,"  says  Joan  of  Arc,  ''on  behalf  of  our  Lord 
God  ...  to  save  the  kingdom  of  France.  .  .  . 
It  is  for  this  I  was  born. ' '  The  full  story  of  her  devo- 
tion to  her  king  and  her  country  is  told  in  Mark  Twain 's 
''Personal  Recollections  of  Joan  of  Arc."  "Jeanne 
d'Arc,"  by  Ethel  M.  Wilmot-Buxton,  is  a  good  biog- 
raphy, and  Boutet  de  Monvel's  "Joan  of  Arc"  a  won- 
drous picture-book,  depicting  religious  processions,  bat- 
tle scenes  and  courtly  ceremonial.  It  has  the  mysticism 
of  the  Middle  Ages  and  is  all  aglow  with  color. 

' '  The  Farewell ' '  is  taken  from  Schiller 's  drama,  ' '  The 
Maid  of  Orleans."  In  the  play  a  helmet  brought  from 
the  market-town  by  a  countryman  and  given  to  Joan  is 
accepted  by  her  as  the  promised  sign  that  the  time  for 
her  appointed  mission  has  come. 

The  King's  Tragedy.    Page  109. 

According  to  tradition,  Catherine  Douglas,  in  honor 


NOTES  301 

of  her  heroic  act  when  she  barred  the  door  with  her  arm 
against  the  murderers  of  James  the  First  of  Scots,  re- 
ceived popularly  the  name  of  "Barlass."  This  name 
remains  to  her  descendants,  the  Barlas  family  in  Scot- 
land, who  bear  for  their  crest  a  broken  arm. 

"  Such  deeds  can  woman's  spirit  do, 
O  Catherine  Douglas,  brave  and  true! 
Let  Scotland  keep  thy  holy  name 
Still  first  upon  her  ranks  of  fame." 

King  James  was  a  reformer  and  during  the  thirteen 
years  of  his  reign  he  earnestly  tried  to  bring  order  into 
the  unhappy  realm  of  Scotland.  He  is  known  also  as 
a  poet-king  and  his  lovely  poem,  called  the  "King's 
Quair, ' '  tells  the  romantic  story  of  his  captivity,  his  love 
and  courtship.  A  few  stanzas  are  quoted  in  Rossetti's 
ballad. 

The  story  of  Catherine  Douglas  is  told  in  prose  in  Miss 
Yonge's  "Book  of  Golden  Deeds"  under  the  title  "The 
Carnival  of  Perth." 

Little  Rosamond.    Page  141. 

Scott's  "Kenilworth"  is  another  and  longer  story  tell- 
ing of  Queen  Elizabeth's  visit  to  the  castle  of  her  favor- 
ite, Robert,  Earl  of  Leicester.  The  heroine  is  the  un- 
fortunate Amy  Robsart. 

Helen  of  Kjekconnell.    Page  149. 

A  Scottish  ballad  founded  on  a  traditionary  event, 
though  the  exact  date  is  uncertain.  The  graves  of  Helen 
and  her  lover  are  still  pointed  out  in  Kirkconnell, 
Dumfriesshire.  Wordsworth's  "Ellen  Irwin;  or,  The 
Braes  of  Kirtle"  is  another  version  of  the  same  story. 


302  NOTES 

Mary  Ambree.    Page  151. 

Though,  the  chronicles  make  no  mention  of  Mary 
Ambree,  the  ballad  records  a  traditional  incident  of  the 
siege  of  Ghent  in  Flanders  in  1584. 

Pocahontas.    Page  155. 

This  poem  is  from  "The  Virginians"  and  is  supposed 
to  be  written  by  one  of  the  two  heroes  of  the  story. 

How  THE  Mohawks  Set  Out  for  Medoctec.  Page  157. 
''When  the  invading  Mohawks  captured  the  outlying 
Melicite  village  of  Madawaska,  they  spared  two  squaws 
to  guide  them  down  stream  to  the  main  Melicite  town  of 
Medoctec,  below  Grand  Falls.  The  squaws  steered  them- 
selves and  their  captors  over  the  Falls."  (C.  G.  D. 
Eoberts.) 

The  Two  Margarets.    Page  176. 

After  the  death  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  James  the  Sixth 
of  Scotland,  succeeded  to  the  throne  of  England  as  James 
the  First,  and  so,  after  long  centuries  of  warfare,  the 
two  countries  were  joined  by  this  union  of  crowns  in  one 
government.  But  the  king  wished  to  unite  the  religions 
of  the  two  kingdoms  as  well  as  the  governments,  and  for 
the  rest  of  his  life  his  great  aim  was  to  force  the  Scottish 
people  to  become  Episcopalians.  To  that  end  he  caused 
laws  to  be  passed  introducing  some  of  the  rites  and  cere- 
monies of  the  English  service  into  the  Scottish  church. 
The  Presbyterians  feared  these  laws  indicated  a  return 
to  Popery  and  so  the  "Articles  of  Perth"  remained  for 
the  most  part  dead  letters.  Charles  the  First,  continu- 
ing his  father's  policy,  attempted  to  introduce  a  Prayer 
Book  even  more  like  that  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 


NOTES  303 

than  the  one  used  in  England,  but  the  people  refused 
to  accept  the  new  forms  of  worship  and  in  1638  drew 
up  and  signed  the  great  National  Covenant  by  which 
they  bound  themselves  to  defend  their  religion  with  their 
lives.  And  thus  the  Protestants  of  Scotland  came  to  be 
known  as  Covenanters.  When  their  ministers  were  ban- 
ished the  people  followed  them  to  their  hidden  retreats 
among  the  hills  and  glens.  No  longer  allowed  to  wor- 
ship in  their  churches,  they  met  in  private  houses,  in 
bams  or  in  the  open  air ;  these  unlawful  assemblies  being 
known  as  conventicles  or  field-meetings.  For  nearly  a 
century  the  Covenanters  were  cruelly  oppressed  and 
persecuted  and  it  was  not  until  William  of  Orange  and 
Mary,  the  daughter  of  James  the  Second,  were  called  to 
the  throne  that  religious  liberty  was  finally  established 
in  Scotland. 

Grizel  Cochrane 's  Ride.    Page  181. 

The  story  is  founded  on  an  incident  of  the  Monmouth 
rebellion,  1685.  Grace  Greenwood  who  tells  the  story  of 
Grizel  Cochrane  in  her  "Bonnie  Scotland"  remarks, 
* '  This  is  the  only  instance  I  remember  ever  to  have  heard 
of,  where  robbing  the  mail  was  justifiable.  Yet  I  hardly 
think  it  a  piece  of  heroism  which  would  bear  repeating. ' ' 

Heartbreak  Hill.     Page  212. 

Ipswich  is  a  quaint  old  town  of  Massachusetts  situated 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Ipswich  River.  Near  by  is  the  hill 
where,  according  to  the  traditional  story  told  in  the 
poem,  an  Indian  maiden  kept  tryst  with  her  lover,  a 
white  sailor  drowned  at  sea. 

Flora  Macdonald.    Page  219. 
For  five  months  after  the  decisive  defeat  at  CuUoden 


304  NOTES 

in  1746,  "Prince  Charlie"  was  a  hunted  fugitive,  endur- 
ing great  privations  and  in  constant  danger  of  capture. 
At  great  risk  to  herself.  Flora  Macdonald  aided  in  his 
escape,  and  her  name,  said  Dr.  Johnson,  "will  be  men- 
tioned in  history,  and  if  courage  and  fidelity  are  virtues, 
mentioned  with  honor." 

For  her  part  in  the  escape  Miss  Macdonald  was  made 
prisoner  and  taken  to  London,  but  she  was  released  in 
1747  and  married  the  son  of  Macdonald  of  Kingsburgh. 
It  is  interesting  to  know  that  at  a  later  time  they 
emigrated  to  North  Carolina.  Shortly  afterward  the 
war  of  the  Revolution  broke  out  and  her  husband  entered 
the  army  on  the  British  side.  In  1779,  when  Flora 
Macdonald  was  returning  to  Scotland,  the  ship  was 
attacked  by  a  French  privateer  and  she  was  injured. 
Referring  to  the  accident  later,  she  remarked  that  she 
had  now  suffered  a  little  for  both  the  houses  of  Stuart 
and  Hanover.  After  the  war  her  husband,  who  had 
been  taken  prisoner,  also  returned  and  they  settled  at 
Kingsburgh  where  she  lived  for  the  rest  of  her  life. 

The  loyal  devotion  of  Flora  Macdonald  has  been  cele- 
brated in  Scottish  poem  and  song.  In  the  "Welcome  to 
Skye"  the  "twa  bonny  maidens"  are  Flora  and  the 
"Young  Pretender"  who  was  disguised  as  her  maid- 
servant. In  "The  Lament,"  she  is  pictured  sitting 
lonely  on  the  shore  after  the  parting  with  the  unfortu- 
nate prince. 

Captain  Molly  at  Monmouth,     Page  227. 

The  battle  of  Monmouth  was  fought  on  the  28th  of 
June,  1778.  Washington  was  in  command  of  the  Ameri- 
can army  and  General  Clinton  of  the  British  forces. 
The  victory  of  the  Americans  was  not  decisive,  but  the 


NOTES  805 

British  retreated  and  remained  inactive  for  the  rest  of 
the  suninier.  An  account  of  the  battle,  with  a  map 
showing  the  position  of  the  troops,  will  be  found  in 
Fiske's  "American  Revolution." 

The  heroine  of  the  poem,  whose  true  name  was  Mollie 
Hays,  had  accompanied  her  husband  to  the  field  of  battle 
in  order  to  carry  water  to  the  soldiers  and  to  care  for 
the  wounded.  The  soldiers  called  her  "Molly  with  the 
Pitcher;"  hence  "Molly  Pitcher,"  by  which  name  she 
is  known  in  history.  She  was  personally  commended 
by  Washington  for  her  conduct  and  placed  upon  half- 
pay  for  life  as  a  sergeant.  Later  the  state  of  Penn- 
sylvania granted  her  an  annuity.  A  song  by  Kate 
Brownlee  Sherwood  and  a  poem  by  Mrs.  Richards  also 
commemorate  her  brave  deed  at  Monmouth. 


Agostina  of  Zaragoza.     Page  230. 

In  his  "History  of  the  Peninsular  War,"  Southey 
says,  *  *  There  is  not,  either  in  the  annals  of  ancient  or  of 
modern  times,  a  single  event  recorded  more  worthy  to 
be  held  in  admiration,  now  and  for  evermore,  than  the 
siege  of  Zaragoza.  .  .  .  Will  it  be  said  that  this 
devoted  people  obtained  for  themselves,  by  all  this  hero- 
ism and  all  these  sacrifices,  nothing  more  than  a  short 
respite  from  their  fate?  .  .  .  They  purchased  for 
themselves  an  everlasting  remembrance  upon  earth, — a 
place  in  the  memory  and  love  of  all  good  men  in  all  ages 
that  are  yet  to  come." 

When  Byron  visited  Seville  the  famous  Maid  was  still 
living  and  he  saw  her  walking  daily  on  the  Prado, 
decorated  with  medals  and  orders  by  command  of  the 
Junta.  According  to  his  version  of  the  story  it  was  her 
lover  who  fell.     This  selection  is  from  "Childe  Harold** 


306  NOTES 

but  in  his  "Age  of  Bronze"  Byron  again  refers  to  the 
Spanish  heroine: 

"  the  desperate  wall 
Of  Saragossa,  mightiest  in  her  fall; 
The  man  nerved  to  a  spirit,  and  the  maid 
Waving  her  more  than  Amazonian  blade." 

In  English  the  name  of  the  town  is  generally  spelled 
Saragossa.    Zaragoza  is  the  Spanish  form. 

Santa  Filomena.    Page  270. 

The  reference  is  to  Florence  Nightingale,  the  English 
nurse,  to  whose  devotion  and  self-sacrifice  hundreds  of 
soldiers  in  the  Crimean  war  owed  their  lives.  It  is 
said  that  the  men  in  the  hospital  used  to  kiss  the  shadow 
cast  by  her  lamp  on  the  wall  as  she  made  her  rounds  at 
night.  "Florence  Nightingale,  the  Angel  of  the 
Crimea,"  by  Mrs.  Richards,  gives  an  interesting  account 
of  her  life  and  of  her  heroic  and  patriotic  service  during 
the  war. 

St.  Filomena  is  a  popular  saint  in  Italy.  In  a  church 
at  Pisa  is  a  picture  by  Sabatelli  which  represents  her 
**as  a  beautiful  nymph-like  figure  floating  down  from 
heaven,  attended  by  two  angels  bearing  the  lily,  palm, 
and  javelin,  and  beneath  in  the  foreground  the  sick  and 
maimed  who  are  healed  by  her  intercession."  (Jame- 
son's *' Sacred  and  Legendary  Art.") 

The  Relief  op  Lucknow.    Page  272. 

An  incident  of  the  Sepoy  rebellion  in  India,  1857. 
The  feeble  garrison  at  Lucknow  held  out  for  many  weeks 
against  the  besiegers  before  an  army  of  relief  came  to 
their  rescue.  In  his  "Pipes  of  Lucknow,"  Whittier  also 
tells  the  story  of  the  Scottish  girl  who  first  heard  the 


NOTES  307 

bagpipes  of  Havelock's  relieving  force.  Another  good 
poem  of  the  siege  is  Tennyson's  "Defence  of  Luck- 
now  ' ' — 

'"Hold  it  for  fifteen  days! '  we  have  held  it  for  eighty-seven! 
And   ever  aloft   on   the  palace   roof   the   old   banner   of 
England  blew." 

Barbara  Frietchie.     Page  276. 

A  romantic  ballad  written  in  1863  and  based  on  an 
account  of  the  incident  received  from  supposedly  reliable 
sources.  It  is  known  that  Barbara  Frietchie  was  a  gen- 
tlewoman, intensely  loyal, ' '  holding  her  Union  flag  sacred 
and  keeping  it  with  her  Bible,"  The  substantial  accu- 
racy of  the  story  has  been  established  and  whether  she 
did  all  that  the  poem  ascribes  to  her  or  not  she  was,  as 
Whittier  says,  ''a  brave  and  true  woman."  The  heroic 
tone  and  patriotic  spirit  of  the  poem  have  made  it 
deservedly  popular  and  the  name  of  Barbara  Frietchie 
will  long  be  remembered. 

Greencastle  Jenny.    Page  279. 

The  author  says,  ' '  You  may  like  to  know  that  the  story 
is  a  true  one;  at  least  it  was  related  by  a  Confederate 
officer  at  a  great  reunion  of  Northern  and  Southern 
veterans  on  the  field  of  Gettysburg.  .  .  .  The  name 
of  the  girl  was  not  mentioned,  and  was  probably  un- 
known. She  may  also  have  been  older  than  I  have  im- 
agined her  as  being." 

Greencastle   is  in   Franklin   County,    Pennsylvania. 
The  date  of  the  incident  was  June  25,  1863. 

Edith  Ca\^ll.    Page  293. 

One  of  the  tragedies  of  the  European  war  was  the 
unjust  and  cruel  execution  of  Edith  Cavell,  an  English 


308  NOTES 

nurse,  head  of  a  hospital  in  Brussels.  She  had  cared  for 
the  German  as  well  as  the  Belgian  wounded;  but  she 
was  accused  of  aiding  in  the  escape  of  soldiers  from  the 
territory  occupied  by  the  Germans,  was  condemned  by  a 
military  court  and  summarily  put  to  death.  So  far  as  is 
known  her  last  words  were :  ' '  Patriotism  is  not  enough ; 
I  must  have  no  hatred  and  no  bitterness  toward  any 
one."  She  lived  a  noble  life,  devoted  to  the  service 
of  humanity ;  she  died  like  a  heroine. 


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*'  Girls  will  love  just  such  a  book  and  will  find  interest  for  every  day  of 
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"Triumphs  of  ingenuity  never  dreamed  of  are  to  be  found  in  this  volume 
of  handicraft  that  girls  can  make,  but  its  chief  charm  is  to  be  found  in  the 
practical  value  of  most  of  the  things  to  be  made." — Lexington  Herald. 


For  sale  by  all  booksellers  or  seat  postpaid  oa  receipt 
of  price  by  the  publishers 


Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co. 


Boston 


The  Young  Folks'  Book  of  Ideals 

By  DR.  WILLIAM  BYRON  FORBUSH 

Fully  illustrated     8vo     Cloth     500  pages 

npHIS  is  intended  to  be  the  funda. 
*  mental  book  in  the  library  of  boys 
and  girls  between  twelve  and  eighteen, 
and  it  deserves  its  place  in  kiterest,  full- 
ness, and  worth.  The  great  educator, 
G.  Stanley  Hall,  has  demanded  "a  s-^cu- 
lar  Bible,"  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  >,his  meets  the  demand.  One  may 
go  farther,  and  say  that  no  other  modem 
writer  has  so  wisely,  so  safely,  and  at  the 
same  time  so  entertainingly  provided  what  young  people  long 
to  be  told  if  only  it  be  done  capably  and  pleasingly.  Dr, 
Forbush  is  a  sincere  man,  and  in  both  writing  and  speaking 
combines  keen  wit  and  great  learning  with  a  rich  store  o^ 
personal  experience  in  a  way  that  entitles  him  to  rank  as  the 
leading  authority  on  making  the  best  of  youthful  life.  The 
book  is  produced  in  a  style  worthy  of  its  really  great  contents, 

"A  book  of  general  culture  for  young  people  which  deserves  a  funda- 
mental place  in  the  library  of  boys  and  girls  between  twelve  and  eighteen, 
because  of  its  interest,  fullness  and  worth.  The  invaluable  knowledge  for 
young  people  imparted,  is  presented  in  a  style  so  pleasing  and  entertaining 
that  young  readers  will  find  it  not  only  convincing,  but  intensely  interesting. 
It  is  an  ideal  book  to  place  in  the  hands  of  young  people." — Zion^  s  Herald. 

"  It  is  a  book  of  unusual  inspiration.  It  will  help  teachers  and  parents 
and  will  prove  a  stable  balance  for  the  young  mind  in  forming  its  habits 
of  thought  and  living." — Buffalo  News. 

"There  is  a  combination  of  keen  wit  and  great  learning  with  a  rich 
store  of  personal  experience  that  entitles  the  author  to  rank  among  the 
leading  writers  of  youthful  life." — Atlanta  Constitution, 

For  sals  by  ail  booksellers  or  sen  t  postpaid  oa  receipt 
of  price  by  the  publishers 

Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co,  Boston 


A  Little  Maid  of  Boston  Town 

By  MARGARET  SIDNEY 

12mo    Cloth    Illustrated  by  F.  T.  MERRILL 

T^HE  opening  chapters  introduce  us  to 
■*■  old  Boston  in  England.  Margaret 
Sidney  want  there  in  1907  anc  absorbed 
the  atmosphere  of  Cotton  Mather's  "  St, 
Botoiph's  Town,"  gathering  for  herseU 
facts  and  traditions.  Then  *'St.  Bo.olph'j 
Town"  yields  its  scenic  effects,  and  tne 
setting  of  tiie  story  is  changed  to  Boston 
Town  of  New  England. 

The  story  is  absorbing,  graphic,  and 
truly  delightful,  carrying  one  along  till  it 
seems  as  if  actual  participation  in  the 
events  had  betn  the  lot  of  the  reader.  The  oame  naturalness 
that  is  so  conspicuous  in  her  famous  "Pepper  Books"  marks 
this  latest  story  of  Margaret  Sidney's.  She  makes  characters 
live  and  speak  for  themselves. 

It  is  an  inspiring,  patriotic  story  for  the  young,  and  contains  strildng 
and  realistic  pictures  of  the  times  with  wMcb  it  deals. — Sunday  ScfuiM 
Magazine,  Nashville, 

Tttp.  author  presents  a  story,  but  she  gives  a  veracious  picture  of  con« 
ditions  in  the  (own  of  Boston  during  the  Revolution.  Parents  who  are 
seeking  wholesome  books  can  place  this  in  the  front  rank  with  entire 
siSeXy. ^-Boston  Glebe. 

Surely  Margaret  Sidney  deserver  the  gratitude  of  many  a  child,  and 
grown-ups,  too,  for  that  matter,  in  te  fling  in  so  charming,  yet,  withal,  so 
simple  a  manner,  of  these  early  days  in  this  country. — Utica  Cbserver, 

A  really  thrilling  tale  of  the  American  Revolution.  Interesting  foa 
both  old  and  young. — Minneapolis  Journal. 


Por  Mai*  by  alt  bookaellen  or  seat  postpaid  on  mcelpt  ot 
price  by  the  publhbtra 

iOTHROP    LEE  &  SHEPARB  CO     Bcrstun 


Girls  of  the  Morning-Glory  Camp  Fire 

By  ISABEL  HORNIBROOK 

Author  of  "  Camp  and  Trail " 

Illustrated  in  two  colors  by  John  Goss 
12mo     Cloth 


'T'HE  sensibly  helpful  and  patriotic 
^  organization  called  the  Camp  Fire 
Girls  is  spreading  with  wonderfiil 
rapidity  because  it  is  based  on  the 
right  elements  to  appeal  both  to  girls 
and  their  parents.  Though  having  a 
basis  of  Camp  Fire  work,  which  the 
author  thoroughly  understands,  this 
book  can  be  enjoyed  by  any  one. 
The  "Morning-Glory  Camp  Fire" 
finds  its  summer  home  on  one  of  the  most  picturesque  por- 
tions of  the  New  England  Coast,  and  the  author's  exceptional 
knowledge  of  matters  connected  with  the  sea  adds  much 
interest  to  the  story.  A  sparkling  style,  rich  humor,  and 
wealth  of  incident  are  conspicuous. 

"This  is  a  book  to  be  welcomed  by  those  who  find  much  truth  in  the 
off-hand  statement  that  it  is  'hard  to  find  good  reading  for  growing 
girls . ' ' ' — Bee,   Omaha . 

"The  story  is  entertaining,  the  characters  drawn  with  naturalness,  the 
incidents  both  amusing  and  pertinent.  Good  reading  for  girls  of  the 
secondary  school  age." — Columbus  Despatch. 


For  sale  by  all  booksellers  or  seat  postpaid  on  receipt 


of  price  by  the  pabllsbera 

Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co, 


Boston 


American  Heroes  and  Heroines 


american^  heroes 
heroTnes 


PIUUKE  ORRlMiTOK  BOUVl 


By  Pauline    Carrington    Bouve     Illustrated 
izmo     Cloth  $1.50 

THIS  book,  which  will  tend  directly  toward 
the  making  of  patriotism  in  young  Americans, 
contains  some  twenty  brief,  clever  and  attractive 
sketches  of  famous  men  and  women  in  American 
history,  among  them  Father  Marquette,  Anne 
Hutchinson,  Israel  Putnam,  Molly  Pitcher,  Paul 
Jones,  Dolly  Madison,  Daniel  Boone,  etc,  Mrs. 
Bouv^  is  well  known  as  a  writer  both  of  fiction  and 
history,  and  her  work  in  this  case  is  admirable,! 
"The  style  of  the  book  for  simplicity  and  cleamesg 
of  expression  could  hardly  be  excelled."—  Boston 
Budget. 


The  Scarlet  Patch 


The 


jtory  of  a  Patriot  Boy  in  the  Mohawk  Valley 

By  Mary  E,  Q.  Brush  Illustrated 
'"T^HE  Scarlet  Patch''  was  the  badge  of  a  Tory  organization,  and  a 
j  X  loyal  patriot  boy,  Donald  Bastien,  is  dismayed  at  learning  that  his 
uncle,  with  whom  he  is  a  "bound  boy,"  is  secretly  connected  with  this 
treacherous  band.  Thrilling  scenes  follow  in  which  a  faithful  Indian 
figures  prominently,  and  there  is  a  vivid  presentation  of  the  school  and 
home  life  as  well  as  the  public  affairs  of  those  times. 

"  A  book  that  will  be  most  valuable  to  the  library  of  the  young  boy." —  Prtnii 
dence  News. 

Stories  of  Brave  Old  Times 

Some  Pen   Pictures  of  Scenes  Which 

Took  Place  Previous  to,  or  Connected 

With,  the  American   Revolution 

By  Helen  M.  Cleveland  Profusely  illustra- 
ted Large  i2mo  Cloth  $1.50 
IT  is  a  book  for  every  library,  a  book  for 
adults,  and  a  book  for  the  young.  Per- 
haps no  other  book  yet  written  sets  the  great 
cost  of  freedom  so  clearly  before  the  young, 
consequently  is  such  a  spur  to  patriotism. 

'  "  It  can  unqualifiedly  be  commended  as  a  book  for 
youthful  readers ;  its  great  wealth  of  illustrations 
adding  to  its  value." —  Chicago  JVe-a/s. 


For  sale  by  all  booksellers  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price 

by  the  -publishers, 

LOTHROP,  LEE  &  SHEPARO>CO.,  BOSTON 


BOOKS  BY  RENA  I.  HALSEY 


Illustrated 


Cloth 


$1.75  each 


BLUE  ROBIN,  THE  GIRL  PIONEER 

NATHALIE  PAGE  is  just  such  a  girl  of  sixteen  as  one  likes  to 
read  about.  Obliged  to  exchange  affluence  in  a  large  city  for 
a  modest  home  in  a  small  one,  she  develops  into  capable  young 
womanhood  by  becoming  a  member  of  The  Girl  Pioneers  of 
America. 

"Any  girl  of  a  dozen  years  or  more,  or  even  less,  will  enjoy  this  thoroughly,  and  any- 
one, young  or  old,  will  be  the  better  for  having  read  it. "  —  Pittsburgh  Times-Gasette. 


AMERICA'S  DAUGHTER 

THIS  is  an  interesting  and  inspiring  story  of 
girls  in  a  select  school  in  Brooklyn  who 
organize  a  club  called  "Daughters  of  Amer- 
ica," and  under  the  care  of  a  weU-liked 
teacher  take  a  trip  to  points  on  the  New 
England  coast  made  famous  in  our  history. 
One  of  the  girls  has  been  brought  up  without 
knowledge  of  her  own  family,  and  so  is  called 
''America's  Daughter."  In  the  course  of 
the  trip  she  unravels  the  mystery  of  her 
birth  and  all  ends  happUy  and  profitably. 

"It  is  an  inspiring  story,  well  told  and  will  be  appreciated  by  girls  who  love  an  active, 
out  of  doors  life." —  Daily  Press,  Portland,  Me. 


THE  LIBERTY  GIRL 

NATHALIE  PAGE,  seventeen,  bright  and  popular  with  aU 
her  mates,  forms  a  club  called  the  "Liberty  Girls"  and  en- 
thusiastically does  her  bit  to  help  win  the  war.  A  surprising 
invitation  to  the  White  Mountains  takes  her  from  organized 
activity  with  her  companions,  but  a  girl  like  Nathalie  will  not  be 
idle  wherever  she  goes,  and  in  carrying  out  the  principles  of 
patriotic  service  she  wins  great  and  deserved  credit. 


Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co. 


Boston 


BOOKS  X7 \ : 


FOR 


Young  Americans. 


By  ELBRIDGE  S.  BROOKS. 
Tff:E  POPULAR  ''TRUE  STORY"    SERIES. 

Seven  4to  volumes  of  from  200  to  250  pages  each,  profusely 
illustrated  and  attractively  bound  in  cloth. 

"  A  series  which  is  worthy  of  hearty  commendation.  Every  grown-up 
person  who  has  read  one  of  them  will  wish  to  buy  the  whole  series  for  tne 
young  folks  at  home.''  —  Th«  Christian  AdvecaU. 

This  series  contains : 

THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  CHRISTOPHER 
COLUMBUS,  called  the  Admiral. 

Revised  Editiou. 

THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  GEORGE 
WASHINGTON,  called  the  Father  of 
His  Country. 

THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  ABRAHAM  LIN- 
COLN, the  American. 

THE   TRUE    STORY  ^^  U.  S.  GRANT, 

the  American  Soldier. 

THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  BENJAMIN 
FRANKLIN,  the  American  Statesman. 

THE   TRUE   STORY   OF  LAFAYETTE, 

the  Friend  of  America. 

THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  UNITED 
STATES  OF  AMERICA.  From  1492 
to  I goo. 

Also,  recently  published  : 

IN  BLUE  AND  WHITE.  A  Story  of  the 
American  Revolution.    8vo,  illustrated. 

Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co., 

ge  FEDERAL  8TRBBT BOSTON 


DOROTHY    BROWN 


By  NINA  RHOADES 
Illustrated  by  Elizabeth  Withington 


Large  12nio 


THIS  is  considerably  longer  than  the  othei 
books  by  this  favorite  writer,  and  with  a 
more  elaborate  plot,  but  it  has  the  same  win- 
some quality  throughout.  It  introduces  the 
heroine  in  New  York  as  a  little  girl  of  eight, 
but  soon  passes  over  six  years  and  finds  her  at 
a  select  family  boarding  school  in  Connecticut. 
An  important  part  of  the  story  also  takes  place 
at  the  Profile  House  in  the  White  Mountains. 
Th5  charm  of  school-girl  friendship  is  finely 
brought  out,  and  the  kindness  of  heart,  good 
sense  and  good  taste  which  find  constant  ex- 
pression in  the  books  by  Miss  Rhoades  do  not 
lack  for  characters  to  show  these  best  of 
qualities  by  their  lives.     Ciher  less  admirable 

persons  of  course  appear  to  furnish  the  alluring  mystery,  which  is  not 

all  cleared  up  until  the  very  last. 

"There  will  be  no  better  book  than  this  to  put  into  the  hands  of  a  girl  in 
her  teens  and  none  that  will  be  better  appreciated  by  her." — Kennebec  Journnl 

MARION'S    VACATION 

By  NINA  RHOADES 
Illustrated  by  Bertha  G.  Davidson     1 2mo 

'T'HIS  book  is  for  the  older  girls,  Marion 
*  being  thirteen.  She  has  for  ten  years 
enjoyed  a  luxurious  home  in  New  York  with 
the  kind  lady  who  feels  that  the  time  has  now 
come  for  this  aristocratic  though  lovable  little 
miss  to  know  her  own  nearest  kindred,  who 
are  humble  but  most  excellent  farming  people 
in  a  pretty  Vermont  village.  Thither  Marion 
is  sent  for  a  summer,  which  proves  to  be  a 
most  important  one  to  her  in  all  its  lessons. 

"  More  wholesome  reading  for  half  grown  girls 
It  would  be  hard  to  find ;  some  of  the  same  lessons 
that  proved  so  helpful  in  that  classic  of  the  last 
generation  'An  Old  Fashioned  Girl'  are  brought 
home  to  the  youthful  readers  of  this  sweet  and 
sensible  story." — Miltuaukte  Free  Press. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  seat  postpaid  0(0  receipt  ot 
price  by  the  publishers 

LOTHROP,  LEE  &  SHEPARD  CO.,  Boston 


mmum-       -^ojitvd-jo'^     ^^<?ojiiv3-jo>^      %mmQ}^ 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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